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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913736">Bismuth For Your Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithsfangs/pseuds/keithsfangs'>keithsfangs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Acceptance, Allura and Shiro are space co-parents and also mlm/wlw solidarity, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Asexual Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Author, Bisexual Crisis, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Male Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Except Not Really Enemies, Feelings Realization, Gay Character, Gay Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith has the social skills of a spoon, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is Not A Fuckboy, Lance is a social butterfly, Loyalty, M/M, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like Adam, Not between Keith and Lance btw dw, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Relationship(s), Rivals to Lovers, Self-Acceptance, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Swearing, They/them pronouns for Pidge (c11 onwards), asexual author, but only brief mentions, internalised biphobia, klance, past bullying, sexuality exploration</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:49:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithsfangs/pseuds/keithsfangs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He liked girls. He knew that, wasn't confused about it. He'd kissed girls, and he really liked kissing girls. They were beautiful, so beautiful, so breathtaking when they smiled at him that Lance's chest fluttered at the sight. Lance liked girls. </p><p>But… was he straight?</p><p>… he didn't want to look in the mirror anymore, but he wanted answers. He knew what attraction felt like, because he'd been attracted to people, but he hated that he knew it so well, because it meant he knew he was attracted to a boy, and that scared him, and he didn't know why it scared him so much</p><p>[Updated every Friday!!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No Focus, Only Crisis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So hi!! Lance's experiences in this are based off my own experiences with my own bisexuality when I was a lot younger. Whilst I wasn't in space, I did feel pretty isolated and very outside the lgbtq+ community when I was first figuring out who I was. I also didn't have as much knowledge of bisexual culture, or even bi coding or stereotypes as Lance does so early in his journey, because I didn't really have internet access until my late teens, but Lance is gonna have some knowledge and preconceptions already. Lance is gonna eventually figure it out and slowly grow more confident in who he is and how he identifies, and find his way around bisexuality in a way that fits him, and he's going to learn that he doesn't have to perform his bisexuality a certain way to be valid etc etc.</p><p>I'm going to <em>attempt</em> to update every friday, but no promises</p><p>Also as an early disclaimer- as somebody who identifies with the queer label for a variety of reasons, I'll eventually write an arc where Lance begins to use this too, and ultimately sees himself as a part of the wider queer community (used as an umbrella for those in the community who are comfortable identifying as queer).</p><p>The issues Lance and Keith both have with communication/processing/sensory/focus etc etc are all based on my own personal experiences in some way, although I've adapted those struggles to also fit their social dynamic. Also Keith has the social skills of a spoon but it's more than I have ashdjlks</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It didn't go unnoticed that something was up with Lance. It was sudden, and slow all at once; slow enough that it took a while to notice, but quick enough that people must've by now, although nobody pried. They waited patiently for Lance to come to them, though he never did, and now, they didn't know how to start the conversation with him; although it needn't be much more than a 'Hey Lance, is everything okay? You seem to be going through something right now, and we want you to know that we're here if you need us'. Or, maybe, they hadn't noticed like Keith assumed they must've done. Or maybe, they didn't pay as much attention to Lance as Keith did.</p><p>At first, it had been as simple as Lance being quieter- not necessarily withdrawn, but distracted. Which wasn't out of the ordinary in particular- Lance and focus weren't best friends at the best of times after all, but he seemed so deep in thought and so within his own head that it was unusual for him. Whilst it wasn't unusual for Lance to become so focused he forgot to drink water or move from his seat, it was unusual for Lance to be so much less... present. He seemed sad, or troubled somehow, although Keith couldn't directly pinpoint what was going through his head at the time. </p><p>And then it manifested in less time spent with the others, more solo training, less physical contact. The cuddle piles Lance used to love became something he seemed to be uncomfortable with- and when he seemed to allow himself that closeness, sometimes relaxing back into his usual smiles and jokes, he'd eventually seem to fade into insecurity. He'd go from laughter and jokes to a wavering smile, a fake yawn and a sad departure off to bed. Lance loved physical affection- he always sought out cuddles with Hunk, or lay himself across Pidge to start telling her how rough his day had been. Lance thrived in social situations, and struggled when he was isolated, so it wasn't healthy for Lance to be actively denying himself that comfort. It was a sign that something was wrong, but nobody seemed to notice that Lance was becoming withdrawn. Keith wanted to be annoyed with them all, for not paying better attention to their friend. Had they all pushed him away? Had Lance pushed himself away? What had happened? And why weren't they doing anything to help? Were they assuming he needed space? Because that wasn't like Lance, and it made Keith question if the others truly knew Lance at all. Hadn't they taken the time to get to know him better than this? Didn't they know that Lance needed people to support him and keep him company when he was going through it?</p><p>He stopped flirting with the women he met at planets they stopped at, even when they flirted first. There were no finger guns anymore, his hands stuffed rigidly in his pockets despite his constant need to move. The lack of finger guns made sense with the lack of flirting at first, although it was unusual for Lance to cut them out all together. It was something he seemed to do instinctively, and on occasion he'd begin to raise his hands, before abruptly stopping as if realisation burned him for doing so. It made no sense to Keith; finger guns were a Lance thing. Had Lance been told he was annoying and lame one too many times? Had he lost his confidence and self-worth when it came to women? Lance had craved female attention like his life depended on it, although Keith suspected he was missing something. Lance was never a fuckboy, never the type to use women, so why was he so... fuckboy-esque? Was he flirting for validation? Was he lonely? Did he need to feel like he could be wanted and loved because he had self-esteem issues and unresolved childhood insecurities? But why had he stopped? He loved flirting, craved the attention. He would seek out social interactions with women until Shiro warned him not to, and Lance would be blissfully smiling and recounting their smiles and giggles in a dreamy state for hours after. It made him happy, so Keith didn't understand why he stopped. What had changed? </p><p>He stopped taking care of his skin, acne scars more visible without the layer of foundation, and fresh acne painting his cheeks now he'd stopped doing his nightly skin care. There were no face masks; no moisturiser nor toner; no exfoliant nor cleanser. Lance had been so dedicated to keeping himself well cared for that Keith couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't. No matter how bad things were, Lance stuck to his skincare routine like glue. He took good care of himself, but now he'd stopped. There wasn't anything wrong with not religiously applying fuck-knows-what to your face every night, and there certainly wasn't anything wrong with having acne and not hiding it under foundation, but it wasn't like Lance to neglect his skin and not freak out if he missed a day or two. It wasn't like Lance to stop taking care of himself all together. </p><p>Something was wrong with Lance, and he was excellent at putting on a mask. Keith wasn't so sure the others noticed their friend struggling. They seemed too wrapped up in their own duties and hobbies, but Keith noticed; and Keith was notoriously bad at understanding people, so this was a problem. Why hadn't anybody else noticed something was wrong? It was so painfully obvious, but then again, nobody ever noticed when something was wrong with Keith either. There must've been a pattern, a link to the social cues Lance stopped using- but this was Keith's weak point, and he didn't have access to databases on human culture up here, and he also didn't want to ask the others in case he overstepped, or the anomalous behaviour pointed to something Lance was trying to keep a secret.</p><p>○●○</p><p>The mirror had always been a safety net for Lance. </p><p>He remembered being five, happy, until the teacher gave the class an exercise to do, and one of the questions hit him harder than it should have done. "If you could change one thing about the way you look, what would it be?" And Lance left it blank. But the teacher insisted there had to be something. And it made Lance look too deep inside. He actively tried to look for that one thing he didn't like, because arrogance was bad, and not liking your appearance was normal, it seemed.</p><p>When he'd started to spiral, saying how he didn't like the way his nose curved up, or his freckles, his pointy chin or large forehead- Veronica sat with him, and told him that instead of focusing on what he didn't like, he should focus on what he did like. And the stuff he didn't like, he should imagine what he would think if they were someone else's face. And that's how Lance realised he liked the way he smiled, and the way his hair curled, and learned to love his freckles, and his nose was cute. And maybe his big forehead and pointy chin weren't bad things- he didn't have to love them. They were a part of his face. And beauty was subjective- he wasn't ugly, because ugly didn't exist. And even if it did, it sure as hell didn't define his worth. And maybe his chin was pointy, but he rather liked his jawline anyways.</p><p>When school got rough, and bullies would make fun of Lance- for anything from his threadbare clothes to his appearance to his self-confidence and his enthusiasm- he'd always go home and walk straight to the bathroom, lock the door- and look in the mirror. He'd tell himself his clothes were well-loved: Comfortable for him, even if he didn't own much. He wasn't ugly; he was okay just the way he was. It was okay to love himself, it was okay to be confident, he didn't have to beat himself up over it or feel guilty. He wasn't dumb and he wasn't annoying- he was passionate about what he loved, and they just didn't vibe with that passion and that was okay, because Lance was okay just the way he was and he shouldn't stop being passionate and energetic for others.</p><p>Sometimes, the mirror grounded him. When he felt himself denying his grades were slipping, he'd look in the mirror. He'd notice the dark circles under his eyes, and he'd go through his school grades in his head, and try to figure out why, why couldn't he focus? Why did he struggle to even clean his room of a morning? Maybe he needed a break, and maybe he could try a different approach to studying. Being mad at himself wouldn't help, because he wasn't purposely slacking off. Other times, he'd remind himself that maybe he did go a little too far with a joke he made, or maybe his flirting really had made that girl uncomfortable, and maybe he owed people an apology, and maybe he would learn and do better. </p><p>Sometimes he didn't have anything to think about. Sometimes, just staring into his reflection when things were rough was enough. </p><p>But right now… the mirror might be giving him answers he wasn't ready for, but the mirror was the one place that felt safe to confront himself by. The one place he felt he could go to when he really needed to think and reflect on himself, in an honest way. It was hard to lie to something that showed your true reflection, after all. Something that showed you just how false that painted smile really was, or just how exhausted you were when you'd been in denial.</p><p>And Lance was shaking. Lance was shaking because he couldn't understand- because he couldn't see it even though it was right there, but when he looked at himself deeper, it was obvious.</p><p>He didn't look like the stereotype. He looked like a regular person. He didn't look like the kind of person you'd look at on a sidewalk and immediately know that part of them. He didn't look gay. And Lance knew- he <em>knew</em> that was bullshit, that it was just a stereotype, or for some a purposeful choice. He knew that, and he never applied this kind of backwards thinking to others but… he looked like… your average guy. The average guy you'd assume to be straight, the type to get a girlfriend and only ever a girlfriend. As soon as Lance heard himself think 'I look normal', 'I look like… a regular guy', he knew he had to stop himself. He knew it implied that somewhere, he'd internalised gay to be different, other- and maybe that's why he'd never considered it for himself. Maybe that's why it was so hard to accept yet another way that he was different.</p><p>He couldn't stop noticing his behaviour. Finger guns were bi culture, cuffed jeans, tucked shirts and oversized hoodies and- a lot of his self care things were girly things, like face masks and skincare and-- that was deeply misogynistic. Lance had been so sure he'd worked through that, yet here he was, seeing himself as less masculine and less normal for liking nice skin, seeing femininity as less than- and as some kind of obvious proof that he was gay- that was problematic all of itself too. Where had all this come from? Why was it so deeply rooted? And… if he didn't hate gay people, why did it feel so… scary, to apply 'gay' things to his own appearance and behaviour?</p><p>He decided to take a deep breath- he'd noticed those biases now. and his own residual toxic masculinity, and he'd work through them more carefully when he was laying in bed before returning to the mirror again. For now, he wanted to focus on why this all bothered him so much.</p><p>He liked girls. He knew that, wasn't confused about it. He'd kissed girls, and he really liked kissing girls. They were beautiful, so beautiful, so breathtaking when they smiled at him that Lance's chest fluttered at the sight. Lance liked girls. </p><p>But… was he straight?</p><p>… he didn't want to look in the mirror anymore, but he wanted answers. He knew what attraction felt like, because he'd been attracted to people, but he hated that he knew it so well, because it meant he knew he was attracted to a boy, and that scared him, and he didn't know why it scared him so much. He'd never had an issue with the lgbtq+ community- he considered himself an ally. He wasn't uncomfortable when guys talked about their boyfriends and girls talked about their girlfriends or people talked about their partners- hell, he'd even seen two guys make out in the changing rooms and he'd cheered for them.</p><p>So why was he so scared?</p><p>… because it made him vulnerable. It was private, and scary- not because it was wrong to like boys, but because he'd internalised that hatred and fear. He was scared of rejection. He was scared of all the things that set him apart from the others. He was scared of all the times he'd heard homophobic comments in casual passing, not realising that they applied to him, not knowing why they hit him in the chest so harshly. And he'd taken it all to heart and let it bruise his love.</p><p>He was scared because people still got hurt for it. People still fought for their basic human rights. People still said slurs and people still rallied against equal marriage. People still turned it into a moral argument and people still oversexualised it and people still saw it as predatory and sinful and wrong. People still got rejected and shunned and worse. People still stopped being so touchy, stopped talking about partners around gay people, kept assuming people were flirting with them- or that bisexuals were all promiscuous cheats who wouldn't choose a side and were secretly one or the other in denial or trying to be special. </p><p>And Lance knew that all of that hatred was aimed at him.</p><p>It was hard enough adjusting to trying to figure out your identity, but it was even harder to do when you were just so scared.</p><p>His family, back in Varadero, had no idea. How would they react if they knew? How could he go about day to day life knowing he might be bisexual, knowing he'd have to come out of the closet, knowing that he didn't want to deny himself his own identity but that fully embracing it would mean being so vulnerable?</p><p>Would he be accepted like he always had been? Would he be cast out violently into the cold dark rain like he'd never belonged in the family before? Would they accept him, but not understand, worry for him, assume things, erase his identity, be uncomfortable about it because they didn't know how to approach him?</p><p>What about his team? </p><p>They were all he had, and this could change everything.</p><p>He didn't even know why he was thinking about this. He didn't even know for sure. He'd gone over and over things in his head now for months, and still he hadn't processed it at all. </p><p>What if he came out? What if he came out as bi, and everything went perfectly, but then he realised he was actually just straight? What if he put himself through potential rejection and homophobia, to turn out to be straight? </p><p>Lance shook his head. That wasn't the right way to think about it. Sure, he was strongly attracted to women, but that didn't make him straight. Bisexual for Lance included women too. He was definitely into girls. But… boys? In truth, Lance liked to dance around it in his head. </p><p>Sometimes, asking himself if he liked boys, he found the truth terrifying, so he shut it down. He told himself he was just confused, it didn't feel the same, and distracted himself from any thoughts about men by thinking of pretty women instead. He hadn't really… allowed himself the room to seriously consider that he might be bi.</p><p>His phone chimed softly, a gentle reminder that it was lunch time. Lance's mood felt heavy, low- and scared. It was as though an irrational part of him was convinced that people could read his mind, would find out he thought he was bi. What if he wasn't bi?</p><p>He walked to lunch, thoughts still fixated on his sexuality. He had tried to shift his focus- to set aside a set few minutes to think about it then stop- but Lance's brain wouldn't always comply. And sometimes, his thoughts would overlap, so changing subject didn't always work. It was such a weird experience, to be constantly thinking of his sexuality, especially when so many insisted that being gay wasn't all they thought about all of the time. But it was always there in Lance's head, to the point he couldn't recollect a time where he hadn't been so utterly consumed by his sexuality that it wasn't at the forefront of his mind.</p><p>He sat down, trying desperately to change his thought track through irrational fear that everybody could tell he was thinking he might be gay- bi- queer, in some way. Lance fought the urge to sit comfortably in his chair with a leg on the seat- gay people couldn't sit in chairs properly, so what if they guessed? So he sat as socially acceptable as possible, both feet on the floor, and trying his hardest not to bounce his legs. He failed the latter, drumming on his thighs with his palms and biting at his lip. All the weird energy building up needed an outlet, and right now, fidgeting was the only thing grounding him. He knew he was being ridiculous by refusing to 'sit gay', but he didn't have the mental energy nor the headspace to process it right now, so he added it onto the list of personal failures he'd work through later.</p><p>"Lance?"</p><p>"Hm?" It took a few seconds for Lance to register that, yes, he had indeed heard them ask him something, but his brain straight up refused to process it. "Sorry," Lance apologised, hoping he wouldn't have to bear the humiliation of asking Hunk to repeat himself. Hunk repeated his question, and Lance focused carefully- and yet again, his brain didn't process it. And now he was struggling to form words, so he just forced out an "okay" with a nod despite wanting to ask for clarification.</p><p>Which Lance came to regret when he got purple food goo instead of green. Of course, he whined about it, so everybody looked at him with some kind of displeased expression, and Lance felt himself shrink away under the pressure. </p><p>"Because you said 'okay' when asked if you wanted the purple," Pidge said, tone a little lower and slower than usual. </p><p>"But-" Lance sighed heavily, "I don't… I wasn't listening," he mumbled. He was listening, as best as he possibly could- but it wasn't enough. And he was overwhelmed and tired and stressed and distressed all at once.</p><p>"Why didn't you ask Hunk to repeat the question? I'm sure he wouldn't have minded," Shiro added kindly, and Hunk nodded in agreement, but it only served to make Lance more frustrated than before. </p><p>"It's not that easy…" Lance replied quietly, but he'd already given up in his head. </p><p>"I can get you the green if you-"</p><p>"No no, it's alright. I asked for this anyways," Lance replied quickly, picking at his food. Conversation resumed around the table slowly, and Lance wanted to join in- but his mood had dropped so drastically, so completely at the thought that he'd annoyed his friends, that he'd unintentionally been rude and nobody ever understood why he did this sort of thing. Keith probably thought he was an asshole. And the worse his mood, the harder it was to focus on what everyone was saying. And yet somehow, his brain still managed to focus on the volume and brightness of the room, the disgusting texture of food goo he tried so hard to ignore, and everything was too much.</p><p>Everyone was laughing and having fun, and Lance found himself on the outside of all of that. Everything was too loud, his thoughts were too anxiety-inducing, and he had no idea how to join in with everybody despite desperately wanting to. He'd interrupted so many times in the past, completely missing the social cues that he shouldn't. So now he waited to be prompted into conversation, except no one ever did. It was an isolating experience, to have a mind so full of thought it pulled you away from your friends and made you watch them laugh without you, without flashing you even the smallest opening to join in, like you didn't exist, like you weren't right there.</p><p>Getting up and going to his room right now would be rude, a social faux-pas that would only worry or annoy the others. And maybe there was reason to be worried, Because Lance was drowning in everything, but he was tired of being the burden to people who rarely remembered to include him. Hunk had grown closer to Pidge, spent most of his time tinkering with tech with her. Shiro often sought out Allura's company, and besides, Shiro was in that age category of still young and cool but too mature to want to willingly befriend people Lance's age. And then there was Keith, who Lance couldn't figure out. He was blunt and abrasive, but so quiet and isolated. Keith could cut in the middle of a conversation to correct Pidge on something, but would remain completely silent even when people talked about things he liked to prompt him to join in. Keith was constantly annoyed with Lance, but Keith matched Lance's energy like a tiny aggressive social chameleon, whilst everyone else would just tell him to go elsewhere and stop bothering them. Besides, didn't Lance have anything better to do than ruin everything?</p><p>Lance didn't even notice everyone leave until he noticed Keith staring and scowling. "What?"</p><p>"Lunch is over," Keith stated, looking as though he expected Lance to do or say something to him stating the obvious. Lance didn't have the energy for more fighting today. Not with Keith. Lance scowled. </p><p>"Yeah. I'm aware. So?"</p><p>Keith's frown deepened. "You seemed spaced out. I didn't think you realised. Also you're always the first to leave. But if you're gonna have an attitude with me, then fine. You stay here and fester. See if I care." Keith went to walk out, but Lance was already royally pissed off.</p><p>"Oh, so I'm the one with the attitude? You're the one who was just standing there and staring at me aggressively like a weirdo."</p><p>"Fine. Believe whatever you wanna believe, Lance. I don't have the time for this. I was just trying to help, but if you're gonna be a dickhead about it, fine." Keith walked out quickly, tense and angry-looking. Lance sighed heavily, having no idea how to interpret Keith's volatile moods anymore. </p><p>Rubbing his palms harshly over his face with an exhausted and tired-of-everything sigh, Lance headed back to his room, preparing for the inevitable overthinking he'd endure.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To clarify Keith's POV for the mini altercation at the end- he was frowning in confusion at Lance's un-Lance-like behaviour, so when Lance responded in a standoffish way, Keith of course felt the standoffish attitude from Lance was unprovoked. Keith attempted to be helpful, by reminding Lance that Lunch was over and pointing out that he'd observed Lance's current behaviour was unusual, prompting Lance to continue talking, But Lance misread Keith's body language and statement as Keith trying to pick another petty fight, so Lance responded in a snappish way to show he wasn't in the mood for that today. Of course, Keith picked up on this from Lance, but he had no idea what provoked it- after all, he was trying to extend the proverbial olive branch. So naturally, Keith is hurt and matches Lance's standoffish attitude; from Keith's perspective, a lot of times he's tried to be helpful or strike up a conversation, or made a statement or responded to a question bluntly, Lance has unfairly reacted as though Keith is being mean or rude, when Keith is only trying to be helpful and be his friend. Furthermore, Keith was staring intensely at Lance to pay real, meaningful attention to Lance's mood and expressions, and also because eye contact is expected of him, and Keith struggles greatly with that but tries his hardest to make it for others. And Lance seems to make a lot of eye contact, so Keith wanted to reciprocate Lance's social needs. He hasn't found a socially acceptable balance when it comes to eye contact yet, and nobody has ever truly accommodated Keith's struggles with eye contact in a long while. Both Lance and Keith are unaware that Lance is genuinely misreading Keith's body language and communication, and that Keith isn't communicating his intentions effectively/ in a way that others understand. </p><p>Keith doesn't understand why Lance reacts the way he does, so Keith chameleons Lance's energy when it comes to the rivalry- that is how Lance interacts with him, therefore the most socially acceptable thing to do is to match that. Keith thinks he's doing a good job at bonding with Lance by adapting to Lance's type of banter- he's completely unaware that Lance can find Keith to be a bit of an asshole. And Lance is completely unaware that Keith's intense investment in the rivalry is because he's trying to form a friendship- Lance just thinks that Keith is overly competitive. And because Lance was constantly compared to Keith, he feels he has to try twice as hard to prove his worth against him and to get Keith to respect him and stop being so anti-social around him. Keith doesn't understand why Lance isn't as affectionate and open with Keith as he is with the others, and doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. Both boys are trying to be civil, but the communication barrier between them leads to constant misunderstandings, sometimes causing tension in situations where both boys have good intensions. </p><p>They simply don't understand each other yet- they need to talk it through and learn how the other thinks and communicates. Once they understand each other, they'll be able to form a friendship and understand each others needs a lot better. There would be less room to misinterpret each other, more asking for clarification, and a deeper understanding of how the other's brain works. They'll find more in common and learn to accommodate each other's differences.</p><p>I hope that makes sense???</p><p>Anyway!! I hope to make this a lot longer than it currently is, but I can't guarantee regular or scheduled updates though. I do have a lot of ideas, and I know how I want the fic to progress, but I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm not very good at making a solid plan. I also keep re-reading my writing and deciding the tone is too childish etc but also I've always been hypercritical of my own work and either way it doesn't really matter???</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Of Misjudgements and Apologies (and a gift, to boot)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance has to ask himself (without reddit): AITA* (see end notes)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I didn't expect to write another chapter yet, but I did, and it's <em>completely</em> off track to what I originally intended.</p><p>TW: Mentions of past homophobia, fear of outing/outing scenario considered by Lance, f slur usage referenced once. Flashback scenes to an ex of Lance's treating him like an embarrassment/ insulting his intelligence. References to bullying.</p><p>CW: Food mentions, descriptions of why Lance doesn't like/can't eat some foods, somebody else eating Lance's food and Lance having to compromise and eat something else that he doesn't like. Also Keith sticks to like- literally only 3 things to eat mostly (but Hunk accommodates that to make sure he's healthy).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance had no idea how long he'd been laying in bed going over and over the same cycle of thoughts again and again. <em>Was he straight? Was he gay? Was he bi? Was he something else entirely? Why was he? Did he like boys? Nope he's straight this is stupid. But what if he is?</em> He couldn't understand why he was so confused, but it must've been the way he shut down any coherent thought that he might like boys. Sure, he may have acknowledged that he suspected he liked boys, but he'd never… given himself the room to actually explore that side of himself without shutting it down out of fear.</p><p>He didn't understand where the fear fully came from. He knew there was nothing wrong with liking boys, and yet, here he was, struggling to accept the fact that he might. It was a lot to process. Because it changed the way Lance saw himself. He'd spent his whole life convinced- absolutely cock-sure- that he was straight. And now, questioning whether he might not have been, meant that he didn't truly know himself. How much more of his life, his personality was a lie? He felt so fake, like he'd worn a mask for so long that he had no idea who he even was anymore. Loverboy Lance was a fraud, a flirt with no means to an end, a fake floating around in underachievements and achievements not meant for him.</p><p>He could feel himself growing increasingly distressed, going round in circles asking himself why he couldn't just accept that he was bi-</p><p>It felt too easy, to look at himself and just declare himself bi. It felt like there should be more steps, like he had to question it for years, hide it, come out in some big dramatic way when someone called him a faggot in the corridor at school, get kicked out and live alone frequenting secret underground gay bars full of leather clad men and big butch lesbians. It didn't feel like he could just… say he was bi, having never spoken to a gay person about sexuality, or having never had some kind of cliché Love Simon experience. </p><p>It felt like he was an impostor, imposing on the community in some way. He hadn't kissed enough guys, slept with enough guys, dated enough guys and loved enough guys to earn his magical gay card that would grant him access to the elusive alphabet mafia he was so outside of. It didn't feel like he'd done enough, when he'd only ever kissed a woman. It felt like bi men didn't exist, and Lance couldn't be one of them, that he was just That Spicy Straight who's Quirky and Different because they say they're only gay when they're drunk and they're not <em>really</em> gay, <em>obviously</em>.</p><p>Was he a fraud?</p><p>The lights on the castleship brightened, and Lance instinctively looked out the window into the perpetual night searching for the sun.</p><p>He concluded that he was just straight, a fraud, that he was terrible for faking being gay in his own head.</p><p>He needed to let his thoughts stop spiralling, but his mind didn't seem to comply. He was shaking, unsteady, but he tried to ignore it and remember his morning routine. He neglected his skincare, neglected his morning shower- just did the bare minimum of using the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and putting his clothes on before leaving his room. He felt such anxiety in his stomach, like everyone had known he'd done something wrong, like he'd walk in to judgmental stares and condemning glares.</p><p>He took a deep breath, finding the dining hall already in chaos. Pidge was grabbing violently at Hunk's arms, trying to get to a plate of pancakes that were Lance's favourites. "HE'S NOT HERE SO THEY'RE MINE!"</p><p>"Pidge, let go-"</p><p>"NO!!!"</p><p>Lance knew Pidge didn't mean anything mean- Lance had siblings himself. Sweet treats were War. Nothing was yours. If you had pancakes or waffles or any other kind of sugary heaven, suddenly your siblings were Communists and it was Our Pancakes, and not just Lance's. But Lance couldn't help but feel a pained pang deep in his stomach, because nobody ever saved him the last seat or the last pancakes or one of his favourite chocolates before everyone ate them all for themselves, even if it had his name on them.</p><p>He sat down in the only seat left close to the group; the one next to Keith. Keith was glaring into his cereal, which he was eating with a fork, getting frustrated when every piece broke apart when he violently stabbed at the colourful grains. Lance had so many questions, but he didn't want to end up a disembodied piece of Lance Cereal like the poor innocent grains currently being savagely murdered by Keith's terrible table manners, so he decided not to pass comment on Keith's unusual behaviour.</p><p>Shiro was sitting the other side of Keith; he looked like he hadn't slept at all. He seemed sluggish, zoned out. Lance hadn't talked to Shiro much- mainly because of his phase of hero worship where he had his posters and all- but also because Shiro was just so much older and more mature, and near constantly disappointed in Lance's attempts to flirt with hot alien chicks. He didn't know anything about the guy apart from the fact that Keith clung to him like a lost turtleduck looking for its mommy and instead following the nearest stranger who gave it bread. Lance did recognise this set-up though. After a lot of arguments with Keith, a tired Shiro would sit next to an angry Keith, like he'd spent the night talking Keith out of first degree murder or something else violent and/or illegal. Like stealing Shiro's car or, Lance remembered, blowing up garrison property with homemade explosives to get Shiro back. </p><p>Lance watched as Pidge succeeded in grabbing the pancakes off Hunk, not noticing Lance and scoffing them as though they were a life saving medication. Hunk was the first to notice Lance’s presence once he’d finished making Allura’s breakfast, at which point he looked awkward, and Lance knew what he was gonna say- that they didn’t have any more ingredients left to make him his pancakes, and they probably wouldn’t for a while. Lance knew not to take any of it personally, but it still stung hard. He didn’t like any of the other options- he found the cereal too bland, to the point he couldn’t stomach it. He didn’t know what went in the waffles, but he couldn’t have those. He’d tried them as soon as Hunk first made them- had been looking forwards to them all day, in fact. And they’d tasted so good- fluffier than he was used to and sweeter in the best way- but then he found himself spending the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon and a fair portion of the night and the next morning stuck on the toilet convinced his spleen was gonna fall out of his ass. It turned out Lance was- <em>unfortunately</em>- intolerant to one of the key ingredients in the alien waffles. So he stayed well away from those. There were no chickens in space, and Lance didn’t like eggs anyway- but the alien eggs were even more slimy than Earth eggs, so naturally, Lance avoided them. The only other options for today’s breakfasts were fruits, and all of them Lance was either allergic to, intolerant to, or couldn’t stand the taste or texture.</p><p>He wished he was Keith right now, happy to live off weird alien cereal and Hunk’s rendition of Turkey dinosaurs, and whatever the fuck was in those protein bars Hunk had made him to keep in his pouches. Keith had found food similar enough to what he ate on Earth, and ate nothing else. Lance had only liked the pancakes for breakfast, and Hunk’s recreation of spaghetti and the not-garlic bread. But they were in the wrong corner of the galaxy right now. None of the planets were in the right climates to grow the grains and goods Lance liked. </p><p>So Lance grabbed himself some water, and sipped at that, but Keith was glaring at him for absolutely no reason again. “What now, Keith?”</p><p>“You’re not eating breakfast.”</p><p>“Yeah, no shit, genius(!)” Lance sipped his water again, hoping Keith would quiet down and leave him alone. </p><p>“You should eat breakfast.”</p><p>“Yeah- I know, believe me, I want to, but I don’t have-” Keith shoved his bowl in front of Lance and stormed out. Lance huffed in exasperation, staring after Keith.</p><p>“What’s his problem?!”</p><p>“He doesn’t have a problem, Lance, he’s just trying to be polite,” Shiro replied, but his tone seemed cautious, tired almost, like he was used to explaining Keith’s behaviour.</p><p>“How was any of that polite?!”</p><p>“He’s trying his best,” Shiro answered, taking a deep breath, “he always leaves breakfast as soon as he’s finished. He feels too awkward to stick around, he’s not used to it and he needs people to be more direct when they’re trying to start a conversation with him. And to understand that Keith may answer bluntly and not elaborate unless prompted to. Keith wasn’t glaring at you, his face is just… like that. Resting Bitch Face, I guess. I blame Adam for that. He was concerned you had no food, so he gave you his to eat so you wouldn’t have to go without. He knows you don’t like them very much, but the cereals are better than nothing.”</p><p>“And… I snapped at him, like an asshole,” Lance realised, rubbing his face with his hands. It would be terrible for his skin, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. </p><p>“Look, I know Keith can seem a bit blunt at times, or standoffish, but he’s… not like that, if you actually get to know him well enough to read his body language. Keith is just… a bit different, to me and you and everyone else.”</p><p>“Because he’s part galra?”</p><p>“No, not like that. Well, that does make him different, but that’s not what I’m talking about, Lance. I’m not gonna ask you to become his best friend overnight, but please cut him some slack?” </p><p>Lance sat in silence whilst he considered everything Shiro had said. He didn’t fully understand Keith- far from it- but it made him wonder how many more interactions like this Lance had misunderstood. "Yeah… I guess I don't need reddit to tell me I'm the asshole this time." </p><p>Shiro snorted in response, and Lance was minutely proud of himself for making Shiro laugh. Humour was a good way to make people happy and to stay useful enough to them for them to want to keep him around, although lately, almost all of his attempts had been brushed off as annoying or immature or unwarranted. Lance may not have liked the cereal much, but he did need to eat, and Keith had willingly sacrificed his food for Lance. So Lance made sure he ate the rest of the cereal before heading to the training deck early, to thank Keith and apologise for being the asshole.</p><p>Lance made sure to enter the room carefully; quiet but not completely silent, so that he wouldn’t be sneaking up on Keith or startling him with loud and sudden noise. Lance had learned the hard way that startling Keith during training could nearly get you decapitated. Lance expected to see Keith going completely feral with a knife and the remains of a gladiator droid, but when he finally found Keith in the room, he was…</p><p>Quietly spinning around, lifting his arms out slightly and spinning them slightly more than his body, occasionally setting himself off balance from the motion, although he seemed to be getting a great deal of joy from doing it. His face looked so relaxed and peaceful, happy almost, even when he was only doing short half spins. A few times between spins, Keith would stop and lightly flap his hands with a smile before continuing. He eventually fell on his ass, but that didn’t seem to deter him; he just flapped his hands and scrunched his face up in a wide grin, then jumped up and continued to spin around as he was before, occasionally pausing to jump up and down as though he’d only just discovered the joy of doing so, watching his feet carefully and turning to see how it looked like from the back and losing his balance all over again-</p><p>Lance maybe felt a little warm inside at seeing Keith so… un-Keith-like. It didn’t last long, though, before Keith spotted Lance and the warm smile from Lance’s face dropped into a nervous one, and Keith’s entire being became taut with defensiveness, like a cat raising its hackles. It would’ve been endearing, Lance thought, if only it wasn’t such a stark contrast to how carefree Keith had looked when he didn’t realise Lance was around. Did Keith really hide so much of his natural joy away from others? Away from Lance?”</p><p>“What do you want, Lance?” </p><p>Lance’s heart dropped at the realisation of what he had the misfortune of witnessing here. Lance recognised this response, from his own personal experience. The way Keith shut down any traits or behaviours that othered him; the way he clammed up, adopted a standoffish- no- <em>defensive,</em> persona. It was the behaviour of somebody used to being mocked and teased, bracing themselves for more mocking and teasing and trying to stay tough to get them to lay off or to at least pretend it didn’t get to you until you were alone again.</p><p>Keith was expecting Lance to tease him for spinning.</p><p>“I just, I came to say sorry, man,” Lance stammered out, hoping Keith would know this wasn’t a cruel trick. “I was a jerk to you, about a lot of things. I just, I don’t think I really understand you, all of the time? I mean- that’s totally not your fault, it’s a me problem, but I mean that, I’ve been a jerk to you, because I assumed you were being a jerk to me, when you wasn’t, and, that wasn’t fair on you. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like-- I… don’t know how it made you feel, but, I can’t imagine you felt good about it. And I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you. And I know this might not be enough and I know I’m rambling now, but oh man, I’ve completely misjudged you these past few months and you deserved better from me. You still deserve better from me, so going forwards, I’m gonna make the effort to uhm- to try and, learn to speak Keith. I mean I doubt I’ll get fluent right away, but, I mean I’m already bise-uH- bilingual, haha, yeah, so, uhm, I’m, gonna try to learn how to, communicate with you, more on your wavelength, instead of you constantly trying to adapt to me-”</p><p>“Lance.” Lance immediately shut up, mentally chastising himself for a poor apology. He couldn’t bring himself to look Keith in the eye- not when he felt so anxious, about the apology, about almost outing himself, about all of it. But Keith never continued speaking after he interrupted him.</p><p>“Was there… something you wanted to say?”</p><p>“No.” Blunt, to the point. “I just wanted you to shut up.”</p><p>“Oh…” Lance wasn’t quiet sure how to take that. “... sorry…” </p><p>Lance looked up just enough to see Keith nod in acknowledgement, before going over to the bench and picking up his sword. Instead of asking for the droid verbally, he just programmed it into the monitor, and immediately started to rip into it. </p><p>Lance sat down out of the way, trying to figure out what was going on in Keith’s head. Lance didn’t think he was angry- Keith had seemed too awkward. Maybe Keith was overwhelmed? Or figuring out how to process it. Lance barely ever received an apology, so when he did, it usually took him days to fully process it, and fully process that he wasn’t being blamed and that somebody was genuinely sorry- and cared enough to <em>be</em> sorry- and then Lance usually had to figure out if he even wanted to forgive them. Of course, Lance was a mug, and always did. And usually got his heart broken in the process. </p><p>He remembered his first girlfriend, Jenny Bradshaw (man, there were a lot of Jenny’s at school), who had seemed so sweet and nice. She always giggled at Lance’s jokes, until Lance felt comfortable enough to be more himself around her. Until he took her on a mall date, made a joke, and this time, she laughed almost nervously, and walked away. She kept doing that, until Lance took her hand and asked her what was going on. <em>“I just don’t want people to think I’m with you, Lance. You’re embarrassing me.”</em></p><p>Lance had been crushed, broken it off, and she’d apologised; <em>“come on, don’t be like that, I said I was sorry! You’re a funny guy! It’s nice how you always act like a clown so I can laugh at you. It gives me and the girls something to laugh about! Give me another chance?”</em> </p><p>And Lance did, like a mug. Until he caught her laughing about it with some douchebag guy, James Griffin, both of them talking about how dumb Lance was.</p><p>
  <em>“Why are you with him, then?”</em>
</p><p><em>“He dotes on me. He buys me nice things and takes the blame for me when I mess around in class. But he’s just… so embarrassing and so… /slow/, I just, I can’t, I’m cringing every time he suggests we kiss or go out in public.”</em> </p><p>Lance hadn’t stuck around to hear any or much more of it.</p><p>And his heart kept getting broken and broken and broken and the more they all broke it, the more he stayed. He stayed because he didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be heartbroken again. Accepted apology after apology after apology and let them treat him like shit, tried to change and hide who he was in the hopes he could stop being an embarrassment. Lance hoped so desperately that somebody could love him, that he wasn’t unlovable, but it just felt so hopeless. </p><p>So Lance understood that Keith might not accept his apology. Keith had way better boundaries than Lance. Keith may not have always known his own worth, but Keith cut people out like celebs cut out carbs. Keith didn’t do second chances. He was a boy who learned not to play with fire, because it would only get him burned. Whereas Lance was the kid who kept putting his hand in the flames time and time again, in the hope that one day it would bring him warmth instead of pain, like fire was supposed to.</p><p>Lance forced himself to pay better attention to Keith’s training, but he hadn’t noticed that Keith was already walking up to him. Keith was standing in front of him, staring directly at him. Lance looked up nervously. “Hey… Keith…”</p><p>“You’re different.”</p><p>Out of all the things Lance might have expected- from a decapitation to an apology- he really hadn’t expected that. It sounded like an accusation, but Lance remembered what Shiro had said, about how Keith would point things out to be helpful. Maybe he was trying to connect with Lance, or maybe he had a point he didn’t know how to elaborate on. “Maybe, buddy… why, is there… something you have to say about that, or…-”</p><p>“I’m different.” Right. Lance could work with that.</p><p>“Yeah, you sure are, buddy. ‘s not a bad thing, though.” Keith nodded, and held out his fist. Lance, of course, went to fist bump Keith, but Keith just glared daggers into his soul. “No…? You trying to punch me there, buddy? Because my face is a little more further away from you than-”</p><p>“I’m trying to bond.”</p><p>“Okay…?” Lance was so confused, and he realised he really didn’t understand Keith at all. </p><p>Keith sighed in frustration, holding his fist out more insistently. “Hold out you hand, Lance.”</p><p>“Oh! Sorry, buddy, I didn’t, pick up on the fact you wanted me to do that. You’ll have to be a little more explicit for things to get through my thick sku-”</p><p>“You’re not thick,” Keith interrupted, nodding in the direction of his fist.</p><p>“Oh! right! sorry!” Lance held his hand out, and Keith finally dropped something into Lance’s hand, standing over him and watching him expectantly. It kinda reminded Lance of the time he got a cat and it used to leave him dead mice and stand at the foot of his bed staring until Lance accepted the dead mice and pretended to eat them in front of the cat. </p><p>He looked into his palm, confused but mesmerised to find a crystal, of some sorts- it was like an oil slick, iridescent, irregular but so… square. It was spirals of squares and oblongs and edges and corners, almost like staircases, leading into pits and protruding squares growing out of squares. Lance moved his palm, the light catching it differently and revealing the pinks and yellows that had been obscured by the shadows. He shifted it again, enrapt by the way the blue and green tones shimmered like a peacock, then gave way to the beautiful oranges and purples when the lighting changed. It was so beautiful, so unique, and Lance figured it had to have come from another planet. There was no way something as pretty as this could be found on earth. </p><p>Lance found himself completely caught up in admiring how pretty it looked that he completely forgot he hadn’t thanked Keith- he looked up with wonder in his eyes, but Keith was already looking back at Lance with a fond and proud expression, and that’s how Lance knew that Keith <em>/understood/</em>. Lance may not have verbalised his gratitude, but by enjoying the crystal, he showed it- and that was enough, that was more than enough for Keith: more meaningful than an awkward ‘thank you’. <br/>“What is it,” Lance asked, glancing down at the crystal then up at Keith again before the crystal won out. It was just so shiny, and metal, and chrome and rainbow and beautiful. It simultaneously calmed Lance’s brain and made the serotonin machine finally kickstart itself into working. </p><p>“Bismuth,” Keith replied, “a radioisotope that undergoes alpha decay into thallium. You can make the crystals in an oven, because it has a low melting point of 520.53 degrees Fahrenheit. Its atomic number is 83 and its atomic symbol is Bi and it has an atomic mass of almost 209. It’s a pentavalent post-transition metal- pentavalent meaning it uses five electrons available to form a chemical bond. It has a half life so long scientists didn’t even realise it was radioactive at first. It’s half life is about ten billion years longer than the age of the universe- about 20 billion years. It’s safe, though. It’s an active ingredient in Pepto-Bismol-”</p><p>“It’s from Earth and I eat this when I have a bad stomach?” Lance looked up now, and Keith nodded seriously. </p><p>“Yes and absolutely not, that would be stupid. You don’t just eat it. Please don’t do that: It’s still toxic. Pepto-Bismol contains bismuth subsalicylate. I know you miss home, and I notice you linger on sequins and shinies like a magpie, so I thought you might like it if I gave you one.”</p><p>“But- <em>why</em>? And how do you know so much about chemistry?”</p><p>Keith shrugged. “Olive branch. And how else do you think I knew how to make homemade explosives at home?” He sat besides Lance, who turned his focus back on the bismuth, twirling it in his hand to watch how the light fell on it.</p><p>“Oh, cool.”</p><p>“I know more about bismuth, but I won’t bore you with the details.”</p><p>“No no, please, bore away!” And that was all it took for Keith to jump into an animated ramble session on the chemical properties of bismuth, only pausing to explain chemical terms. By the time the others walked in, and Lance had gathered significantly more information in a matter of minutes than he’d be able to retain, and all he could think whilst looking at the metal in his hand was, <em>‘wow… it’s bi, like me’</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm an only child so I had to ask mother dearest if the sibling parts were accurate.<br/>Also yes I really did research the living hell out of bismuth and I have no idea how much knowledge I retained correctly but hey, here we are. <br/>(Also I found out that bismuth can be used in bullets in replacement of lead??? wack.)<br/>Also please google bismuth crystals if you haven't seen one, I have two so far and they are SO pretty istg<br/>*AITA: Am I The Asshole</p><p>Also side note but Lance uses 'buddy' a lot out of nervous habit as a term of endearment/ show of seeing someone as an equal and a friend, and not to infantilise Keith or talk down to him like a child (I can see how that tone could be misinterpreted bc people use 'buddy' a lot when approaching a child about something so I just wanted to clarify ashdljhklsdljds)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Tidy space, messy mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance ignores his gay feelings, and ends up talking about other feelings instead</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I actually managed to post on Friday!!! I also have several chapters ahead already written out and drafted, so!!! Fingers crossed! And I actually made a vague plan for once!! So!!! Yay! :D</p><p>Potential TWs: self-deprication, academic competition and burnout, Lance reflecting on being treated like he was dumb or not trying hard enough for struggling in school.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance, to be perfectly honest, had been having a crisis ever since Keith had given him a bismuth crystal. Sure, Lance had been given gifts and trinkets before from family and friends and pretty girls, but he’d never in his entire life had a guy just… hand him a shiny rainbow crystal. It was so left-field, so out of the blue, and so different to what he was used to. Hunk excluded, most guys Lance had known only made an effort with gifts when it came to girls they were being creepy about, and they’d always default to jewellery rather than tailoring the gift to the girl’s genuine likes. Sure, some girls liked jewellery, but grabbing a dollar store necklace and claiming it was diamond really didn’t count as getting a girl nice jewellery. The bar was so low for dudebros and gift giving that Keith giving Lance a literal lump of metal was the most meaningful gift he’d ever received from a guy friend. Lance figured whatever girl Keith ended up with would be very lucky, because if this is how Keith treated his friends, Lance was sure Keith would pull out all the stops for a romantic interest. Lance needed to step up his game, that was for sure.</p><p>Nonetheless, Lance couldn’t stop the way his mind fixated on the gift. He knew it was a friendly gesture, that Keith probably just happened to have it in his pocket and gave it to Lance because Lance seemed sad lately- but it made Lance feel like he meant something. And Lance didn’t know what to do with that so he shoved it aside. Keith was just being a dudebro and picked up the nearest rock he could find. Yes. That must be it. And Lance was just starved for affection up in space so of course he liked the gift. That totally made sense, no need to overthink things at all. Nothing whatsoever in the way that Lance knew Keith didn’t miss Earth much, but he went out of his way to gift something to Lance from Earth, something he chose to gift to Lance because he’d taken the time to observe what Lance had an interest in, absolutely nothing in the way that Keith handed it to him as an olive branch, and told Lance lots of cool facts about it in his own adorably awkward way. </p><p>So naturally, Lance decided to completely ignore the scary complicated resurgence of his bi crisis, and decided to throw himself into helping Coran with the cryo-pods all day. Despite his usual protesting, Lance actually didn’t mind cleaning as much as he thought he would. Sure, the idea of spending hours scrubbing the castle was the least fun he thought he could have, but he found that once he’d gotten started- so long as there was a clear way to clean up and a clear way to tidy things- he tended to lose track of time whilst focused on the scrubbing. It also sometimes helped him to clear away all his racing thoughts, because he’d lose himself in the focus. Of course, Lance’s room was a complete mess- he hadn’t cleaned it since he arrived, and now things had piled up, he had no idea where to start. He couldn’t even see where he could put stuff to one side to organise it and declutter the floor and dressers so that he could actually put things away and rearrange his room neatly.</p><p>So cryo-pods were Lance’s go-to activity for cleaning. It was very rare they actually got visibly dirty, and they almost never accumulated dust, because they were cleaned after regular usage. It was mainly just residues from the freezing process, and chemicals the pod used to heal with. The pod itself didn’t store any waste from patients; they were designed to send any waste into the hazardous materials tank after filtration. So cleaning the cryo-pods was simple: scrub the grime off with a scouring pad, wipe it down with cleaning solutions, and buff and shine the pod ready for the next use.</p><p>By the time Lance had finished with the last pod, he still felt in a productive mood, so he finally decided to sort out his room. Usually, the prospect of clearing his room out would immediately kill his mood- but today, he had thoughts to avoid, and it turned out avoiding facing those thoughts was a very powerful motivator. Yay, unhealthy suppression(!)</p><p>Lance’s genius idea involved removing absolutely everything from his room and laying it all out in the hallway- after all, it was too early in the day for the others to be likely to walk past. There was something oddly fun about grabbing all of his stuff and throwing it all over the floor in the hallway- like the naughty child in Lance was finally able to get away with making a mess because he was practically an adult now and adults can do whatever they want. And the corridor just had <em>so much space</em>-- Lance lost himself in digging through everything and grouping objects into sets and envisioning the layout for his room and where everything would go and where everything could be stored and kept neat. Although, he did need better storage, so he sprinted down to some of the old storage rooms for some stackable boxes and some various trays and carts he could use to store his stuff on. And of course, an unholy amount of pen holders, mainly in the form of cups he’d stolen from the kitchen. They only needed like- six cups anyway, and on the rare occasion they did hold a party, they almost never actually used that many cups, so they could stand to miss ten-to-twenty cups for a while.</p><p>Lance almost never folded his clothes- mainly because he could almost never get it right- so for the first time in his life, he actually put everything back on the hangars in the wardrobe, or in the laundry. Of course, he only had one outfit from Earth, his Paladin armor, and his Paladin pyjamas, and he was wearing his clothes, so his armor got hung up and his pyjamas went in the laundry. Now all Lance had to do was learn how to do the laundry, but that shouldn’t be too hard, right?</p><p>… Lance decided to leave his laundry for another day.</p><p>Lance hadn’t even realised he’d missed lunch until he’d organised his collection of random rocks he’d picked up on missions and heard a crash in the hallway, followed by a very startled <em>“FUCK!”</em> </p><p>Wincing at how much trouble he was probably in, he walked out sheepishly to find Shiro on the floor, having tripped over Lance’s new pen holders that he hadn’t put in his room yet, because he was saving the desk ‘til last. Shiro immediately glared daggers at Lance, who awkwardly scratched the back of his head. </p><p>“Sorry…”</p><p>“Lance,” Shiro began, and <em>wow he sounded exhausted</em>- “why is all your stuff on the floor in the corridor? What are you doing?”</p><p>“Cleaning,” Lance replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and avoiding eye contact. </p><p>“Can’t you keep your cleaning <em> inside </em> of your room?”</p><p>“Uhm, nope,” Lance shrugged, cringing at his lack of explanation as Shiro sighed in exasperation and sat up. </p><p>“Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”</p><p>“Oh! Uhm,” Lance froze. He’d never really had anyone ask <em> why </em> he was making a mess before they just assumed that he was doing something wrong. “I, uh, I needed to organise my room, but I didn’t know where to start tidying because there was just so much stuff in there, so I figured if I took everything out of my room and put it all on the floor, I could sort through the piles with all the extra space, and then it would just be a matter of figuring out what goes where, which can be the fun part, sometimes. Which is why I got all of the pen holders from the kitchen, because if I put all of my pens in a pencilcase, they’re gonna get muddled up. Also it’ll be like they didn’t even exist if I can’t see ‘em, so, you know, yeah. Clutter.”</p><p>Shiro sighed in response, and started to re-tidy the piles of stuff he’d tripped up on. “Okay, that makes sense. Although I recommend leaving a good foot or so of space by the wall so people can still walk past without almost breaking their necks. Do you need any help?”</p><p>Lance had never been more mortified in his entire life. If it was Hunk, or Pidge, or Coran, or even his mom- Lance would not have hesitated to immediately accept the help they offered. But this was the guy Lance idolised as a kid and as a teen. He’d wanted to be just like Shiro- a legend. The guy who got to go to space and the guy who got to be recognised for all the hard work he put into things. And Shiro was practically Space Dad now, and he was near constantly disappointed in Lance. “Uhm, no, I’m good,” Lance replied awkwardly, eyes trained to the ground as though looking up would burn a hole through his brain. </p><p>“You sure? You look like you’ve got a lot of stuff left to tidy, and given the amount of heavy boxes and sets of drawers you’ve dragged out here, you could probably use some help.” Lance knew Shiro was right however much he didn’t want him to be, so he nodded awkwardly. </p><p>“Yeah, okay,” he replied, “but just don’t expect me to be very organised in how I do things. I’ll probably jump around a lot, you know? Like, start in one place then get distracted by something else before going back to the original thing.”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” Shiro replied, “it looks like you’ve been doing a good job so far.”</p><p>“But it’s a mess,” Lance protested, “and I hadn’t cleaned my room in months!” Lance always got in trouble for a messy room. Always, no exceptions. Hadn’t Shiro realised how messy his room had been? Didn’t he care that he’d tripped over Lance’s stuff because he carelessly left it out in the hallway?</p><p>“But you’re cleaning it now, and that’s the important part,” Shiro replied, moving some of the boxes to create a pathway in the hallway, “back at the garrison, I could never keep my half of the dorm tidy. Adam would always glare daggers at me because he found one of my gym socks on top of his paperwork.” Lance snorted at the thought, although he found it pretty hard to envisage Shiro being so messy. Although, now he knew who Adam was: Shiro’s roommate at the garrison. </p><p>“Was Adam a neat freak?”</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say a neat freak,” Shiro began with a smile, “but he was certainly more tidy than I was. He liked to have everything organised, he had a system and apparently my sweaty gym socks were a threat to that system. And whenever we went out flying together- we were flight partners- he was forever chewing me out for leaving my stuff all over the floor of the cockpit. I guess his neatness eventually rubbed off on me. Sometimes I see how messy my space is and all I can think about is how Adam would stand there glaring at me until he decided to just passive-aggressively tidy it and leave a note threatening my sock collection with the shredder if I didn’t keep my dirty laundry away from his work station. But he never actually minded cleaning up. In fact, I know he enjoyed it. And he never did shred my socks. He even set up this corkboard where he’d pin up any unpaired socks he found. After that, it was much easier for me to find my missing pairs of socks.” </p><p>Lance laughed lightly, because he could certainly relate to having a messy room. Hunk was always chewing him out for leaving sticky sweets all over the room, especially when they became stuck to Hunk’s clothes or his homework. Although Hunk would never tidy his stuff up for him. No, Lance had to do it himself. Even if the once his late night vaccing session got Keith standing by his dorm door glaring daggers at him like he was personally offending him. “Did I tell you about the one time Hunk made me clean my side of the room so I decided to do it at night whilst Hunk was working late on a project in the labs? Oh man, Hunk had been so mad one of my open packets of sweets had gotten stuck to his jumper and he’d been walking around with a pack of melted blue sweets stuck to his back all day. But like, I even decided to actually hoover the place, but it was a little late past curfew and like?? Keith, for no reason, decided to stand at my door and glare daggers at me? And I was like- <em>‘can I help you???’</em> So Keith replied with <em>‘die’</em> and just- walked off! I was?? so confused??? But it was just so funny to me because I had a cat just like that once?”</p><p>Shiro snorted in response, lifting a heavy box to move it to the corner of Lance’s room. “Keith gets overwhelmed with loud noises. He was probably glaring at you to stop hoovering, he hates the hoover. I swear the once he actually <em> hissed </em> at me for hoovering the carpet whilst he was on the sofa. As for telling you to die, that’s how he bonded with Adam. I promise he didn’t actually hate you, it was just his way of playfully expressing his annoyance.”</p><p>“He was friends with your old roommate?”</p><p>“Adam and I lived together,” Shiro replied casually, and Lance figured it was probably financially convenient to rent a flat together or something. “Keith stayed with us during half term and in the summer because they wouldn’t let him stay at the garrison.”</p><p>“Didn’t he just go home?”</p><p>“That was his home,” Shiro replied, and whilst his tone wasn’t necessarily standoffish, Lance got the message loud and clear not to pry- he’d have to get it from Keith, if Keith trusted him, that is. Didn’t Keith have a family? Surely they weren’t <em>that</em> busy over summer that they couldn’t let Keith go home and stay with them?</p><p>“Did Keith and Adam get along very well?”</p><p>“Oh, definitely,” Shiro replied, “for a while, at least. At first, Keith and Adam were like two peas in a pod. They had a lot in common, and they just- <em>understood</em> each other. Adam was just as stubborn as Keith was sometimes. But in the lead-up to Kerberos… well… Adam didn’t want me to go, because of my health and the risks and all, and Keith didn’t either. But things were so strained between us and… Keith had always been closer to me, so things got strained between him and Adam as well. And then when Adam finally walked out, Keith couldn’t understand why and Keith took it personally. I know they never reconnected after I went missing on Kerberos. That’s why Keith moved back to the shack, I think. I don’t know what happened to Adam. He’s probably still at the garrison in his teaching job. He’s… probably moved on by now. I think. I don’t know. Adam isn’t very sociable. He’s less so than Keith. Befriending Adam is like getting blood from a stone. Keith is desperate for friends even if he thinks he has to be alone- but Adam was <em>happy</em> alone. So maybe he hasn’t, but, I doubt he’d want anything to do with me again. It was a messy break-up.” </p><p>Lance thought Shiro’s roommate was kind of a jerk. As his friend, shouldn’t he have supported Shiro and his decision to go to space? Besides, what was wrong with Shiro’s health anyway? The guy was the poster boy for good health and fitness, major gym freak vibes. “But why would your health have been a valid reason for him to have wanted you to not go to space though? I don’t know, Adam just seems kinda selfish to me, and-”</p><p>“I’d rather not talk about it,” Shiro interrupted suddenly, although Lance didn’t miss the way his robot arm twitched. Shiro took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to continue. “Anyway. What’s the deal with you and Keith always arguing? What happened between you two?”</p><p>“Nothing did,” Lance replied with a shrug, glad Shiro didn’t seem that mad at him. “Keith just… hated me, for some reason. Although, I’m not so sure about that now. I remember before he dropped out, he used to call my name like he wanted to talk, then just bolted or scowled at me before walking away a lot. But he’d always glared at me. To be fair, we do have a rivalry. He’s always gotta be better than me at everything, it’s annoying, you know, like, why couldn’t he just- let me win, for once? Even after he left, Iverson was always comparing me to him and reminding me that I was only a fighter pilot because <em>Keith</em> flunked out.”</p><p>“To be fair, you were the one who started the rivalry in the first place. I think Keith just wanted to communicate with you on your level, but he wasn’t purposely trying to take away from your achievements. I’m sure you know how often he got in trouble. If his grades so much as slipped by one, He’d be back in Iverson’s office getting yelled at. More than once when Keith’s grades slipped, I had to go vouch for him in the office, or when Keith got into fights all the time. If it helps, I don’t think he ever looked down on you. He doesn’t think you’re not smart or capable or competent at what you do. But Keith is… very used to people trying to knock him down a peg or two. Keith is- naturally good, at school. Gifted and Talented group and all. He pinned so much of his self worth onto academics because he had a lot to lose if he didn’t meet the standard expected of him, and in the end, he just kinda… burned out, I think. And people <em>celebrated</em> his failures. I’m sure you know how it feels to be held to unrealistic expectations of you. And every time Keith achieved good grades… having the teacher compare people to him and having those people turn against him was… unfair. It’s unfair for everyone, but it wasn’t fair for everyone to take it out on Keith, when it was the school’s fault for turning everything into a competition.”</p><p>“Oh,” Lance replied, because he’d really never thought of that. When Lance had gotten an A in class once, Hunk had congratulated him and took him out for ice cream. Everybody congratulated him on his hard work and mentioned how proud his family must’ve been. When Keith got an A… well. They’d all tried to tear him down for it, and Lance was ashamed to say he’d gathered some resentment for Keith in the heat of the rivalry, even if he’d never been nasty about it like the others had. </p><p>“Yeah,” Shiro replied, “Keith hated it. I think that’s another part of why he flunked out. There’s… no competition anymore, if you remove yourself as a player. He can just be average Keith, when he’s not competing with you.”</p><p>“I was never good enough,” Lance began, sitting down on one of the boxes. Shiro paused in his work and looked up, sitting down on another box when he realised Lance was going to continue. “No matter how hard I tried to study, or how good my grades were, it was never good enough. Somebody was <em>always</em> better than me. I still averaged a C-, and even though that was still <em>so</em> much better than what I used to get, I still constantly had letters sent home about my grades. My whole school life was getting in trouble and being asked, <em>‘why can’t you be more like Hunk? Why can’t you be more like Pidge? Why can’t you be more like Keith?’</em> And I always thought Keith was arrogant, but… now I know that he wasn’t. I tried… <em>so hard</em> to study. I <em>barely</em> got into the garrison, and as soon as I did, I was bombarded with this, inflexible routine and this, <em>heavy pressure</em> to- be better, to <em>do</em> better. No matter <em>how hard I tried</em>, no matter how <em>proud</em>, I was of myself, it was <em>never</em> enough. I was sent out of class all the time because I couldn’t keep still; I was constantly belittled and treated like I was dumb; when I didn’t understand or didn’t process the lesson, or, I struggled to focus on it, nobody tried to accommodate that or teach me how: They just yelled at me for not paying attention. So my grades would fail because they wouldn’t repeat the lesson for me and I found it hard to get into a healthy headspace to study. So yeah. I’ve never been good enough, and the rivalry, it… makes me feel like I’m actually a competitor. Like… I’m not just cast aside. Like I’m actually a threat to the top spot, like I’m actually- <em>good enough, for once</em>.” <em> good enough for somebody…</em></p><p>“...Can I be brutally honest with you about something?” Lance nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He fully expected a lecture about how he was making excuses, about how he should do better and grow up. He braced himself to hear it again, but from his idol this time. </p><p>“I don’t think the rivalry as it is right now is very healthy or sustainable for either of you. Sure, there’s such thing as a healthy rivalry, but I think you both need to set boundaries. Stop actually trying to compete with each other as though winning or losing dictates your worth or your place on the team. Compete because it’s fun and it motivates you, and not because you feel as though you have something to prove.”</p><p>Lance squirmed uncomfortably, because he knew that Shiro was right- and he knew deep down that Keith would agree too. Whilst their dynamic had never gotten nasty, it wasn’t always healthy. It certainly wasn’t irreparable, and after the olive branch… well. Lance was realising he’d misjudged Keith a lot. “I just… I’m the dumb one,” Lance replied, “and I don’t have a thing. I wish I did but… I just wanna be good enough for once…”</p><p>“You’re not dumb,” Shiro replied, soft but firm, “you struggle. And that’s okay, and it doesn’t make you dumb. And besides, you’re our sharpshooter. Don’t be too harsh on yourself. The system does that to you plenty, you deserve to let yourself breathe. You’re not a failure, or useless. The system just wasn’t built for people like you, and <em>that’s not your fault</em>. The system is broken. Not you, Lance. So give yourself a break. Your worth isn’t defined by how good you are in school or what you can contribute to a team or how good you can focus in class. You have worth, because <em>you’re a whole person</em>. Your worth is intrinsic. You have worth because you’re a person with your own rich experiences and your own viewpoints and your own motivations and dreams and wishes and talents, even if others don’t recognise them and especially when you aren’t the best at them. Knowledge must yield to experience. Your experiences in life will always be worth more than somebody who read a textbook thinking they know how you should live. Try to remember that next time you catch yourself berating yourself for <em>‘not being good enough’</em> or <em>‘not trying hard enough’</em>. Be mad at the system that’s made you live like this, instead of being mad at yourself for not meeting society’s impossible standards of productivity and worth. You deserve better than that, Lance. You are <em> not </em> broken. You never was.” Shiro patted his shoulder firmly and left, and Lance was left staring at the wall with more to think about than he’d had before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...<br/>Lance <em>really<em> doesn't realise that Shiro's gay yet.</em></em></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pretty Watercolours and Asexuality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance attempts to befriend our resident (not)purple space cat</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this week has certainly been hectic for me! I went like- two days without even <em>looking</em> at my writing. Also I've gotten into the habit of using html in my actual google docs before I copy and paste to AO3 and it's easier to do it as I go along but boy does it make reading my work back seem disjointed </p><p>tw: mentioned past aphobia, feeling broken</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance had let everything that Shiro had told him settle deep. He’d gained a lot of food for thought: from his own perspective on his worth, to his strained rivalry with Keith. He had more questions than answers when it came to Keith, but he was determined to get those answers by talking to Keith directly and getting to know him, like he’d committed to doing in his apology. He wanted to build the bridges he’d blocked from being built between them. Keith had already been trying to build a bridge, and Lance had taken a wrecking ball to it in an instant, and Keith had only matched that energy. But Keith had extended an olive branch in the form of a rock, and now it was up to Lance to follow through on his commitments to repairing things between them. He needed to learn how Keith communicated, how Keith worked, and what a happy bond looked like for Keith, and perhaps the answers to Keith’s elusive past would follow that, and maybe those revelations would ultimately help him to better understand Keith’s language of bonding. </p><p>Today was an off day, where there was no training scheduled, so Lance figured that Keith would be on the training deck. Keith almost never took a day off, and honestly, Lance didn’t know what else Keith did in his free time. Sure, he liked knives and space wolves, and probably chemistry based on his lengthy infodump on bismuth alone, but that didn’t really reveal any hobbies Keith could do in his free time. Maybe forging blades? Lance vaguely remembered an offhand comment Keith made about watching Forged in Fire, so it made sense to think that he might have an interest in that. But that wasn’t something Keith could do at the castle, and Lance knew he was never at the labs- no, that would be Pidge and Hunk. Keith watched How It’s Made, but Lance doubted Keith decided to wake up and build a car or make glass or something random that he’d need a whole factory for, or something.</p><p>Lance suspected that despite Keith’s clear interest in chemistry, he likely never got much practical experience because he dropped out. He wouldn’t have had access to the garrison’s equipment. He hadn’t known what Hunk meant by Fraunhofer lines (was that even chemistry? It might’ve been physics, but Lance didn’t know), but it made sense that if Keith had never gotten to that module in class, he wouldn’t know to research them, especially if Keith wasn’t applying chemistry often . Lance had a feeling that Keith was rather learning the properties of each element, so it made sense that his knowledge would differ to somebody with greater access to journal articles, textbooks, and equipment. Besides, Keith didn’t have a computer in the desert, and he almost definitely didn’t have internet. The records on Altean chemistry missed out a lot of elements found on Earth, and not all of them were translatable via computer, due to some tech issue Lance didn’t really understand. So Keith must’ve infodumped information that he hadn’t had access to study for years, which was really quite impressive, if Lance really thought of it. </p><p>Lance eventually found Keith sat in the library, surrounded by books. He’d clearly been here all day- he’d already set aside an old Altean textbook and a field journal that appeared to have some sketches and estimates on some undiscovered elements, and what properties they may have based on the Altean observations. The textbooks couldn’t be translated, given the fact that humans and Alteans had only just begun to communicate since the start of this wild, wacky space adventure. Sure, translation technology helped exponentially with spoken Language, but some words likely wouldn’t directly translate if there wasn’t an equivalent in the other language- like Quiznack- and the dialect in most of these books had gone extinct centuries before Coran’s birth, and whilst he’d studied history, many Altean dialects and languages had unfortunately died out, and the books were too old to be read by the computers. Lance honestly thought Keith’s work was impressive, even though he had no idea if Keith was right or not. Keith seemed to be having fun naming them randomly, though. From Aurellium to Landakadmium, Lance was sure none of the elements had logical names beyond what Keith probably thought the words might sound like- or perhaps Coran had managed to figure out a rough translation of some words.</p><p>Currently, however, Keith was surrounded by old books and watercolour paints. Lance recognised a lot of the books- mainly because they were duplicates. Popular books, Lance assumed, hence there being multiple copies in the library. And with no sketchbook, Keith appeared to be repurposing the books as his own personal sketchbooks. Lance managed to get close enough to see what Keith had been painting without Keith noticing, and Lance was in awe. Beautiful crystals and galaxies and the Northern Lights, all from memory or imagination. Deep cobalt and azure tones with brilliantly vibrant magentas and ruby jewel tones, deep emeralds and bright mustards, bright oranges and beautiful lilacs. And on the page, a beautiful bismuth, a swirling monolith of chrome. </p><p>“I didn’t know you could draw-” Keith startled, whole body jumping in shock and head whipping to Lance with wide, startled eyes, before relaxing into a scowl. “Sorry, dude, didn’t realise you were so focused,” Lance apologised, trying to hide the amused smile on his face as best he could.</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Maybe I just want to read,” Lance shrugged, because what was he supposed to do, just tell Keith that he was here to talk to him, after obsessively searching the castle for the whole day? No thank you. Besides, people usually laughed if Lance said he read, so he doubted Keith would take it seriously anyway.</p><p>“Oh,” Keith replied, getting to his feet and brushing a thick layer of dust off his lap from the books, “You should’ve just said.” Keith kicked his legs out, shook them slightly as if getting rid of the stiffness of sitting in one place for a while, before walking over to a set of shelves where the dust had been significantly disturbed. “Coran translated all of these. They’re romance books, I think. Either Romance or Horror or Action. I don’t know. Coran says Altean genres are kinda… blended into one. Things like science fiction don’t really exist, given the fact most surviving Altean literature comes from the post- space exploration era for them. So it’s called ‘Action and Exaggeration’, I think. I saw one that looked like a godzilla-like weblum that I was gonna read later, but I probably won’t get around to it. The books to your left are all history books, or journals. Coran wrote down some Altean folk tales, because most of them were part of an oral tradition but he’s afraid that the tradition and those stories would die off, given nobody from the Altean colony knows them. He recorded the most special ones, because they were too sacred to transcribe into text.” Lance nodded, and honestly, he was kind of interested, but he didn’t have the focus for that when his brain was already fixated on his goal.</p><p>“Thank you, Keith,” Lance replied honestly, making a mental note to return to the library later to get better acquainted with the Altean literature- although Lance was a lot more interested in the untranslated texts in comparison to the translations, since he’d started to develop a hyperfixation in Altean language and literature. It was sad, to think that when Coran was a little boy, these stories were everywhere, but now these stories were archived relics of a lost culture, ripped from the universe by Zarkon, almost older than humanity’s dawn. It made Lance more interested to learn, to keep it all alive, somehow, to connect better with his Altean friends. But he couldn’t shake the warm feeling he felt upon realising that Keith was one of the first people who didn’t treat Lance like he was dumb, didn’t act as though he didn’t believe him when he said he wanted to read a book.</p><p>“Are you gonna pick up a book?” </p><p>“Later,” Lance replied, and Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Lance raised his hand slightly to indicate he was going to explain. “I know I said I came here to read, but I’m not in the right mindset yet. Maybe we could, I don’t know, hang out or something? Talk, or, whatever? Or, I mean- you could continue to paint, and we can just sit here in silence together, I could, y’know, keep you company, or something?” </p><p>Keith stared whilst considering, before nodding with a half smile- or, at least, what may have been an attempt at a smile, perhaps. “Okay.” And with that, Keith sat down, and continued to paint. Lance really hadn’t expected Keith to want to sit there in silence, but apparently he did, so Lance sat down and hoped he wouldn’t get mind-numbingly bored. He supposed that in the very least, he’d learned something new about Keith- that Keith actually didn’t mind company, but was content to just sit in silence.</p><p>Half an hour in, and Lance realised that this wasn’t quite so bad. There was something peaceful about watching Keith paint and allowing his thoughts to wonder about things, knowing he wasn’t alone, but with no pressure to talk about the right things at the right time. Keith seemed to be enjoying himself too; he looked more energetic in his painting, more content and relaxed than he had when Lance had first walked in, like perhaps Keith didn’t always like being alone. Maybe sometimes, he just wanted the company, or somebody to take interest in what he was doing, rather than expecting him to engage in other’s activities all the time. It made sense- almost nobody had interests that directly overlapped with Keith, and at first, he had tried to linger, but after a while of nobody saying anything to him, outright ignoring him, or showing no interest in getting to know about his hobbies, Keith had probably given up.</p><p>It hadn’t been intentional: Lance was sure nobody had noticed that Keith was attempting to be friends. They waited for Keith to initiate conversation, whilst Keith was waiting to hear that it was okay to join them. It was a miscommunication on both ends, but unfortunately, it had isolated Keith from the group. Lance hoped that he could integrate Keith into the group, help him to feel welcome, and hopefully Lance would forge a much closer friendship with Keith too. Lance felt as though he’d reached some kind of important milestone, now he’d cracked some more of the code that was Keith. He’d learned that Keith wasn’t actually antisocial: he just needed the right amount of inclusion and companionship. Lance wasn’t quite sure exactly why it was so important to him to be closer to Keith, or why this particular moment felt quite so profound, but Lance certainly wasn’t complaining. </p><p>He just didn’t want to think about what it might mean.</p><p>Keith eventually finished the page he was working on, carefully putting down his tools and stretching his arms out with a yawn. He yawned like a cat, Lance thought, mouth opened impossibly wide and fangs on full display- </p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p>Fangs??</p><p>
  <em>“Are they-”</em>
</p><p>“Yes, I have fangs, Lance,” Keith managed to mumble mid- yawn, stretching his arms higher and arching his back backwards, his shirt riding up to reveal a muscled section of tummy and a lean section of hips that Lance absolutely only stared at because he was jealous and of course all guy’s stares at their buddy’s midriffs, it was perfectly normal bro behaviour, so- </p><p>Keith pulled his shirt down as he finished yawning and stretching, and started cracking his back and shoulders, and apparently his jaw too. “Why’s everyone always surprised by my fangs? Y’all know I’m half galra.”</p><p>“Well- yes, but-” Lance stopped himself before saying ’you look so human’, because that really didn’t sit right in Lance’s head as something to say to someone. “They’re so <em>sharp</em>, Keith, how do you not like- constantly bite your own tongue?!”</p><p>“I do,” Keith shrugged, “got used to it. Doesn’t stop me chewing the inside of my cheeks, though, but I accidentally catch my tongue a lot. My tongue’s always been weird, though, like a cat’s. It feels spiky.” Keith stuck his tongue out, and Lance stared at it. It looked like a regular human tongue, apart from the presence of small spines covering the top surface almost entirely. Lance stared, and resisted the urge to poke it and see what it felt like. Keith put his tongue back in, and looked up at Lance’s eyes. Lance filed away the feeling in his stomach as just a reaction to the intensity of his gaze, and not to do with Lance’s ongoing crisis at all.</p><p>“…Galra really are just giant space cats, huh,” Lance mused.</p><p>Keith gave what Lance assumed was an unimpressed glare, and Lance had resigned himself to the fact he’d fucked up, before Keith, in the most deadpan, bored voice he could muster, spoke a deep, husky “meow.” And Lance immediately burst out laughing, because the contrast of serious, murderous Keith taking Lance’s joke well and adding to it filled Lance with a vibrant feeling of vitality. It was funnier because a cat’s meow was so tiny and cute, nothing like the dulcet baritone of Keith’s voice saying the word out loud. He risked looking up at Keith through his laughter, who had that same proud, smug smile on his face as he had when he handed Lance the bismuth. He looked like the cat that got the cream, although Lance supposed that was a stupid idiom, given that cats were lactose intolerant anyway. Lance laughed a little too long, and now Keith was staring at him with an innocent curiosity, head tilted slightly to the side.</p><p>“Okay, kittyboy,” Lance teased, “let’s get out of here. Everyone should probably be eating soon anyways.” </p><p>“Oh,” Keith began, as though snapped out of a train of thought, “Okay. Lemme just… clear up my stuff.”</p><p>“Yeah, this is… quite the organised chaos, huh?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s not organised,” Keith began, “it’s just chaos. I mean I <em> tried </em> to be organised, but then it just…” Keith gestured to the pile, “became a mess.”</p><p>“Oh god, I felt that,” Lance laughed, “want help?”</p><p>“No thanks,” Keith replied, “I just need to leave my stuff open to dry, then come back for it later. Nobody ever comes in here anyways, and even so, I doubt anyone here would be as much of a dick as to ruin it.” Lance shrugged, because that made sense, and waited for Keith to tidy his paints away. </p><p>“I didn’t know you liked art,” Lance stated casually, hoping to learn more about Keith. </p><p>“I never used to,” Keith replied candidly. “It’s… hard. No amount of studying makes you get good at art. It’s not like I can read a book and parrot the information in my own words. It’s practically guaranteed you fail at art your first few attempts. And in the desert, there was nobody to encourage me to draw, or to tell me that I wasn’t a failure. But I needed something. So, here I am. Painting in my spare time. It’s all just patterns and shapes… I can understand patterns and shapes, even if I’m bad at replicating them, at first.”</p><p>“Well, you’re amazing at art,” Lance began, “you don’t have to hide it away, you know.” </p><p>Keith blinked. “I’m not. Nobody ever asked.”</p><p>“Oh…” Lance mentally berated himself for never thinking to ask, to never think to even make small talk. He’d assumed Keith was quiet, and moody, but it turned out Keith was an open book if you took the time to ask. “Well, do you have any other hobbies?”</p><p>“Making bismuth,” Keith shrugged, “knives. Training, I guess. I tried writing once, but it’s not my thing. I get too frustrated, and it’s hard to visualise where I’m going wrong. You?”</p><p>“Oh! Uh, well swimming is one, reading sometimes, uhm… I like to journal when I have the chance, although, mama always said I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to my body, and she’s probably right, so journaling keeps me organised sometimes. I like learning about dolphins and other sea creatures, and I went through a huge mermaid phase as a kid that I never fully grew out of, but I can’t draw, so that sucks. Oh! I did meet mermaids with Hunk, and Plaxum kissed my cheek. She was pretty. But that’s just about it.”</p><p>“Oh… you dated before?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lance replied awkwardly, although he couldn’t pinpoint why he suddenly felt so guilty about it. “But nothing ever… I got my heart broken a lot.”</p><p>“Oh,” Keith frowned, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Lance replied, “if they broke my heart, those girls certainly wasn’t the right ones, so… I guess they’re all just, dodged bullets. What about you, were you seeing anyone?”</p><p>“No,” Keith replied, although his body language turned awkward, his frown deepening. “I never really- I don’t really, get crushes. Think I might be broken, or something. I do fall in love, though. But I don’t-” his frown deepened. “I don’t know. But I’m not good with people anyway.”</p><p>“I doubt you’re broken, Keith,” Lance replied carefully.</p><p>“Everyone kept telling me that I just needed to meet the right one, or maybe I was just a late bloomer. Someone even offered to ‘fix me’ and it creeped me the fuck out so I started carrying my knife around with me. But no matter what, nothing changed. And I didn’t feel comfortable trying to force myself to have feelings I don’t have, so I didn’t try to fix it. I guess I’m just… permanently broken, and that’s all. I never tell anyone. I don’t like how people respond. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t trust it.” Lance considered carefully before he thought about responding. Lance remembered the lesson in sex ed about asexuality and aromanticism, and Keith’s description sounded a lot like asexuality, but Lance knew it wasn’t up to him to label Keith. But Keith had been absent for almost every sex ed lesson, and if he just convinced himself he was broken all the time, he might never have came across the correct terminology before.</p><p>“Have you heard of asexuality?”</p><p>“You mean like plant reproduction? Yeah. Why?”</p><p>“No no, not that.” Lance shook his head, before figuring out how to word his reply. “Asexuals feel little to no sexual attraction. So the whole, ‘holy shit, she’s hot, yes please’ response just… isn’t there. Of course, objectively you can tell if someone’s attractive or not without being attract<em>ed</em> to them. So crushes would probably feel pretty different without the physical attraction involved. But you can still be romantically attracted to somebody too, if you’re not aromantic.”</p><p>Keith frowned, and stopped walking. He seemed deep in thought, and Lance wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “There's a word for that?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lance replied nervously, “it’s a whole identity. I’m not asexual myself, but, I learned about it briefly in class. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.” Keith stared into nothing, still deep in thought, like he was processing. Lance figured it must be a pretty huge thing for Keith to come to terms with, so he stayed quiet to give Keith a chance to process. Keith seemed to take a while to mull it over, before he continued walking to lunch. Lance matched his pace, allowing Keith the space to think it through thoroughly. </p><p>By the time they reached the dining hall, Keith paused, looking Lance directly in the eye. “Thank you.” And with that, Keith walked in, and Lance was left feeling glad that he’d helped Keith to realise that he wasn’t broken, he was asexual. </p><p>And by the next morning, Lance woke to find a whittled wooden pen sitting atop his desk, with a small bismuth crystal glued carefully to the top. It came with a small note; ‘Thank you. Use this for your journaling. Keith.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look. Artist Keith is a hill I am willing to die on, okay? Yes I'm aware he was terrible at art during the game show, but I mean he was under a lot of pressure and barely had any time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Answering questions and gaining more</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance reflects on who he is and is completely oblivious to his crush on Keith even though he describes his type in his head and it's literally Keith</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So hi!! Some hopefully good news- it's my birthday tomorrow, so in celebration, I'm going to break my posting schedule a little and post chapter 6 tomorrow! Also we're getting closer to Lance identifying as bi now (but still so far away from the Klance!) Every year of being an adult unfortunately does not make handling taxes easier unfortunately, 0 star rating on yelp I want a refund on my subscription to adulthood :/</p><p>TW: Fear of rejection, abandonment and homophobia (Also queer will be used throughout the fic as an identity and umbrella term for those who identify as such)</p><p>Some quick terminology, vastly oversimplified and poorly explained so please look these up for nuance/ better definitions and how these structures affect society and the lgbtq+ community:<br/>Heteronormativity: straight as a default/ societal norm/ expected<br/>Cisnormativity: cisgender as default/societal norm/ expected<br/>allonormativity: the way society views sexual attraction and acts as integral to being human/ sexual attraction as default<br/>amatonormativity: the way society views romance and f/m monogamous relationships as the norm/ romance as the default<br/>Bisexual Manifesto: A publication by bisexuals defining bisexuality and addressing biphobia (Bay Area Bisexual Network,<br/>Anything that moves, 1990)<br/>(I'll try put it in the end notes of chapter 6 tomorrow)<br/>Also this is commonly known but just to clarify for those who may not have encountered much lgbt terminology:<br/>Cishet: Heterosexual, Heteroromantic, Cisgender (basically not straight or trans or aspec/ not lgbtq+)</p><p>(more terminology in end notes)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance found himself deep in self reflection. Yesterday had yielded a fair pocket of revelations for Lance, especially about Keith, but it had also prompted him to reflect more on himself. Keith had been struggling with his asexuality and the aphobia he faced for years, without anybody to guide him towards a label, with nobody to tell him that he wasn’t broken. And Keith had accepted it almost immediately, pausing to reflect on it. Keith finally had the answers to years of questioning himself, and it made Lance wish he had the same too. </p><p>It made Lance realise that he couldn’t run from his problems forever. He was always going to be confused and struggling if he shut down any serious attempts at questioning. He needed to take time to truly reflect on who he was, but they were currently crammed on a drifting shuttle with no mirrors. So Lance did the closest thing he could do: he looked through his camera roll, bunched himself as far into the corner as he’d fit, and found a picture from his childhood. It was a photograph of a photograph, when he was about six, on the beach, wide toothy grin with a gap, holding up a crab. It was his only unfiltered photograph of himself, the most candid one. And the one he felt he owed this to. This was his young self, the Lance that wanted answers. The Lance who dreamed, and the Lance who would write to his future self asking him to tell him what his future looked like; if he went to space, if he met a pretty girl, why his heart felt so wrong and empty, like he was an actor trapped in a sad play. </p><p>Lance took a moment to take note of his surroundings before delving into deep thought. Pidge was playing Mars quietly on her phone to introduce Romelle to Earth music she might like or relate to, Hunk had his headphones in listening to an instruction manual, Coran was talking quietly with Allura up front, Keith was sitting quietly watching space go by, and Shiro was napping in his seat. Everything seemed quiet, individual, private. It was the calm kind of anxiety, the comfortable and settled state you entered when you knew you had no control over your circumstances. Lance took a deep breath, and looked back to the photograph.</p><p>The answers were there, somewhere, even if Lance was terrified of them. He’d buried them, suppressed them, shut down any serious reflection on himself because it terrified him. But he was only hurting the little boy in the picture… hurting himself in the process. He was hurting himself, by not allowing himself to explore who he really was. And he hadn’t faced how much that was damaging him, how much happiness he was denying himself. He thought back to Keith, going his whole life thinking he was broken, and he thought of himself, thinking he had to shut down his sexuality to feel normal. It was stressful, but Lance hadn’t realised that denying a big part of himself was only going to fracture his heart. How much happiness and freedom was he denying himself? How much pride and confidence? How big a part of him was obscured? How many answers were there hiding behind the curtains Lance didn’t want to open? What audience would cheer for him, and what audience would boo him?</p><p>Lance took a deep breath, and admitted it to himself. He was questioning his sexuality. He didn’t think his attraction was solely towards women. He thought he might like other genders too, including his own. He thought he may be gay, if he was to use the term loosely as an umbrella. It helped him face it more bluntly in his head, where he couldn’t default back to focusing on his attraction to women. He thought he might like boys. He was questioning if there was a chance he did, if he could, if he was queer, in some way. If he wasn’t straight, he certainly wasn’t exclusively gay, he knew that. Bi, pan, omni, poly? M-spec, either way, seemed the most likely direction. Lance decided not to put a label down until he’d laid the rest of his cards down on the table.</p><p>He fully believed in and supported non-binary identities, couldn’t see himself excluding them from his potential dating pool. He could admit to himself that he found many non-binary individuals attractive in the past. He absolutely didn’t need to question if he was into women, because he knew that he was for certain. But was he also attracted to boys? He found the urge to shut it down, save it for another day that would never come. He knew it was time to stop running from the possibility that he wasn’t straight.</p><p>Did he like boys? Why did he suspect he might?</p><p>Boys were… something Lance hadn’t allowed himself to reflect on. Sometimes, he felt so disconnected to the boys at school, so othered, and Lance had questioned for so long why. He’d wondered if it might have been his gender, but Lance felt comfortable with himself, so he chalked it down to the toxic masculinity of other men and disconnected himself from it. But it hadn’t stopped him from feeling like he didn’t belong, and now he was wondering if it was because of the heteronormativity surrounding him. Because of course he’d feel other, being a queer boy in a group of heterosexuals. His instinct was to search for signs, to look back into his past and find ‘evidence’ he wasn’t straight, but he knew that wouldn’t help much, because he knew he’d suppressed most of it for most of his life. He knew he couldn’t keep lying to himself, so he had to make the effort to allow himself the space to think about what he might like about boys, or what qualities of boys he found attractive. Which wasn’t easy to do: just like girls, boys didn't all share a single, ubiquitous body and personality.</p><p>Maybe, Lance thought, some boys were pretty. Some boys had a gentle, kind expression. The kind to help you with your groceries, and send you a smile as if they were grateful they got to help <em>you</em>, even though you were left feeling like you were blessed by an angel. There was the kind of boy who would help you move dorms, the kind with big muscles and a football jersey, the true himbo who would show off his guns and simp for you. And there was the type of guy who would take you to a quiet spot in the library and ask you if you wanted to spend the evening solving differential equations. There was the type of guy who burned bright with passion no matter what. The type of boy who nobody could tell him who he was or who he should be. Or the type of boy with long hair and rings and open pirate shirts with a chest full of treasure he swears pales in comparison to the treasure he’s caught with you. And maybe Lance had been watching too many pirate movies, so sue him. Piracy was a gender neutral fashion, in his opinion. And maybe during his mermaid phase, he’d imagined what it would be like to be the mer who captured a pirate’s heart, even if Lance had always imagined that to be a woman. He could imagine a guy in her place now, with a cocky half-smirk and a smooth but husky voice, the kind of guy who looked like he’d also belong in sleek black leathers on the back of a motorcycle, or in his billowing shirt with blood red fangs and a casket, to boot. A guy with long hair, rugged and masculine but so adorably endearing at times that he made Lance’s heart grow fond. If only there was a boy who could look so good.</p><p>Could Lance see himself being physically attracted to a man? Could he see himself craving a kiss from those lips, running his hands through a man’s hair? Could Lance see himself loving the shape of a man’s body, cis or trans, the same way he did a woman’s? Would he still want to trace words into a man’s flesh as they lay besides each other, words of endearment and heartfelt promises, the same way he had with girls? Would Lance accept a partner, of any gender, and find them just as beautiful and handsome as he’d envisioned girls to be? Could Lance imagine losing himself to the intoxicating scent of a man’s cologne, breathing it in and borrowing his jacket as a pillow just to feel at home? Could he see his heart skipping a beat when a man laughed, when his eyes lit up with mirth and joy? Could he see himself leaning close to embrace a man with passion, just the same as he’d wanted with a woman? Could he imagine that electric pull in his gut at the thought of a beautiful man picking him up and carrying him home and kissing him silly long into the night?</p><p>Upon reflection, Lance was realising that perhaps straight boys really didn’t think of other men like that. Lance wondered briefly if it would feel any different kissing a man, if he’d be more rough than a girl, or if he’d be just as shy and nervous. Would the dynamic be much different, out of the grips of allo/amato/cis/heteronormativity? With a guy, the whole point was that there wasn’t a woman in the relationship (unless the person was in a poly relationship that involved a woman). Would Lance be expected to take on a more feminine role? Would the other guy? No, that all felt like heteronormative bullshit. Sure, some people naturally fell into that dynamic just by being themselves, but there was absolutely no reason two masculine dudes couldn’t just exist as men who loved men where neither of them was playing the role of the ‘wife’. </p><p>Would a guy understand Lance in a different way than a woman would? Would a guy understand what it was like to unlearn toxic masculinity? Would he empathise better with Lance’s experiences with his sexuality? Would he be less inclined to erase the part of Lance that still liked women, because he’d understand bisexuality deeper than a straight person could? Would he be patient whilst Lance prepared to come out, understanding how difficult and scary and complicated coming out would be? Would a guy still hold him close at night, and kiss his forehead goodnight? Gift him little trinkets, take him out for drives and watch the sunset and run with him into the ocean? Could he find that kind of happiness with a guy? Would they simply just chill in their boxers together watching shitty action movies and eating hot chips? Would a guy hold his hand, tell him that he was the best future husband a man could ask for? Would he get down on one knee with a ring, or would Lance be the one to do it? Would they lay together, listening to each other’s heartbeats, scared as fuck of what the world would think but facing it all with bravery and grit, refusing to let the world shame them for something so beautiful? Would a guy be his mama’s favourite around the house? Would he be the one holding Lance’s hand through good times and bad? Could Lance have all of that with a guy, and would he want to?</p><p>Lance took a deep breath, re-focusing on the picture of his younger self. The little boy in the photo looked so happy, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes, because he was different, somehow. He was always different, no matter how hard he tried. Lance wanted younger Lance to hear and know that it was okay, that he’d figure things out and find a way to live happily, with his differences embraced by those around him. But he just didn’t know if those differences would be accepted or not, and that broke his heart to think that one day he’d look the same little boy in the eyes, and tell him that loving who he loved would have him cast out into the rain, with nothing but mud and heartbreak to show for it. Although, maybe, if he allowed himself to be stronger than his shame, he could have somebody with him, to hold his hand and take him into the ocean to scream until the pain went away and he’d cry on his shoulder, and he’d never let go of what love he had left. Perhaps, he’d have to tell little Lance that his parent’s love for him was conditional, and that thought broke his heart. And it broke Lance into pieces that made him want to run away and hide forever, because he wasn’t strong enough to face that pain, at least not yet.</p><p>But Lance was fucking terrified, and he had no idea how to process that. If he loved a man, what was the cost? Was it worth it? Should he shut himself away, put the mask and the barriers back up, settle with a woman and deny any trace of pride he may have had, bury the rainbows in the back of the closet? Lance had never felt so vulnerable, like he was stamped and branded with a rainbow he didn’t ask for, like everybody could see it and everybody could leave, like Lance wanted to cover it, and- fuck- maybe even protect it, because what if somebody tore it from his chest in the name of helping people, and left him empty and desolate and broken with a piece of his identity corroded down in shame and corroded by acid words and burning vitriol? Wasn’t that exactly what Lance was doing to himself, by denying himself his own sexuality? Couldn’t he keep it safe, nurture it until it was ready to shine, until he was ready to find somebody who would see it and say: <em> I accept you. And I love you. I’m with you. </em></p><p>Lance took a deep, shaky breath wishing he could shut this part of himself down and reprogram it, wishing more that he hadn’t been made to think like that. The hate, Lance thought, wouldn’t be so bad, if those people didn’t have the power to take his rights away: or worse, love forbid, take away his life and snuff out the rainbow for good. He wished there wasn’t a world with so much hate. He wished there wasn’t a world where his own family could stop loving him. He wished there was such a thing as unconditional love, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that the world existed without it. Lance had learned to love conditionally, in the sense that if somebody hurt him and hated him, he had to stop loving them; he had to let them go, because he always deserved better than hurt. He hoped his family’s love for him could be unconditional, if only so Lance wouldn’t have a condition to have to leave it all behind.</p><p>Lance was finally realising why he’d never truly allowed himself to question his sexuality, or accept that he might not be straight. It was because Lance was scared as fuck of how much he stood to lose. He was terrified, because he could lose everything, and gain nothing. And Lance didn’t know if he had the strength to take the pain, but he just knew that he had to find it from somewhere. He had to find the strength to stop denying who he was. He had to find the strength to be vulnerable in a way he never had been before, by accepting that he had the capacity to love men.</p><p>Lance just really wished he had somebody to talk to, who he could guarantee would understand. Somebody else with a rainbow heart, maybe somebody who had lost everything, so that Lance could see that there was room on the other side to grow again, even in the dead and barren grass. Maybe the grass wouldn’t be greener on the other side, but maybe that meant Lance had to fight twice as hard to make it green and bright. Maybe there wasn’t always a rainbow waiting for him at the end of the downpour, and maybe he had to shine his light just the same to herald in the end of the storm. And maybe Lance would have to go through this alone, but maybe it was time that he stopped giving up on himself and started to fight for himself even when the pain was too much to bear, because who else would? <em>Who else would…</em></p><p>Lance hadn’t realised he was shaky and tearful until he looked up, felt the suffocating weight of suppressed emotions sit heavy on his chest. It felt so different now, knowing that his experiences, the way he viewed the world, was shaped by the rainbow lens he hadn’t even realised he’d been looking through. It could’ve been a privilege or a curse, but terrifying nonetheless. It felt like so much had changed. The world he’d learned to live comfortably in suddenly felt full of monsters out for blood. The love he’d surrounded himself with felt rigged on a trigger wire, waiting to be tripped at the slightest inkling of homosexuality, waiting to rip into his flesh and leave him helpless and bleeding with no mercy or compassion or second chances at a family. </p><p>“Lance?” </p><p>He snapped out of his headspace registering the urgency in the tone that suggested he’d been called multiple times. He braved looking up, to see Shiro’s concerned eyes searching his face for answers, and with a deep breath in, Lance fought against the urge to burst into tears.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Definitions of m-spec labels in this fic:<br/>Bisexual: attraction to same and other genders (other common definition: attraction to two or more genders)<br/>Pansexual: Attraction to all genders (often defined as being 'genderblind' or without preference)<br/>Polysexual: Attraction to multiple genders<br/>Omnisexual: Attraction to all genders where gender is a factor in how attraction is experienced<br/>M-spec: multisexual spectrum- umbrella term for the above sexualities<br/>Abrosexual: Fluid sexuality/ sexuality that changes/fluctuates/is not fixed (not included in this fic as Lance already knows his sexuality doesn't change/is fixed. Similar to how he doesn't consider if he's exclusively gay because he knows he's attracted to women, or doesn't consider if he's asexual or aromantic because he knows he experiences both kinds of attraction.)<br/>Queer: Not inherently mspec, but a long-reclaimed slur* and umbrella term for those who aren't cishet and are comfortable with the term. Not everybody is comfortable with queer and that is 100% okay, you don't have to use this umbrella term and you're allowed to set boundaries if people try to label you as queer. For me and others, it's empowering, inclusive of nuance, and takes the power back from the bigots. As stated, in this fic Lance is comfortable with the queer label and being in the queer community just as much as he's comfortable with being bi and being in the lgbtq+ community.</p><p>I know less about omni and poly labels so I put down the definitions I most frequently encounter, so if there's a nuance to those two identities I missed, let me know! Also please be aware that there is a lot of overlap, and not everybody defines their sexuality in the same way, and that's okay. For example, some pansexuals feel gender does play a role, or reject the genderblind label on the basis gender may be important to their partner. Polysexual is not the same as polyamorous- Polyamory is the ability to be attracted to and date multiple people at once, not to be confused with cheating/infidelity. </p><p>All of these identities are trans/non-binary inclusive because trans men are men and trans women are women, and of course, non-binary people (umbrella term for this instance) are the gender the say they are. I'm trans myself and I often see definitions where trans people are treated like they're a third gender to be attracted to etc (ex. pan= men, women and trans people), or that some definitions exclude us (ex. bi= cis men and cis women) etc etc and I don't vibe with those definitions personally. To clarify, this fic isn't a place for discourse (we respect all genders, sexualities and dating preferences here), I'm just clarifying my personal thoughts and how labels are defined in this fic.</p><p>Also, Lance's experiences with bisexuality and how he defines it and distinguishes it from other labels is not indicative of how anyone should or shouldn't identify or define their own sexualities- it's just his personal connection to the labels, which I based off my own. Picking a label is about what feels comfortable for you, or what best describes your feelings and/or preferences if you have them. If you feel similar to Lance but don't ID as bi, your label is still valid. You know you better than anyone and it's your identity to define, nobody else's.</p><p>Also this goes without saying but bi/pan/omni/poly solidarity rocks</p><p>*A lot of terminology and labels used and reclaimed by the community are/were slurs, queer is just another in a long line. In around the late 1980s people like the queer nation began to reclaim it (I'm not sure if people further in the past identified as queer but they might've), so it's been reclaimed for a while now. It's used in academics widely (queer studies and queer theory) too. Ultimately it really is a matter of comfort and respecting whether others are comfortable with it or not regardless of whether you personally like it for yourself. Some people have had it used against them and can't stand being called queer, others have chosen to reclaim it and find it to be liberating and integral to their identity, and both personal connections to the word are completely valid. </p><p>Again, if you're uncomfortable reading the term queer or seeing it applied to your comfort characters, this unfortunately isn't the fic for you as I'll be using it often. Maybe when I complete the fic I might post a version without using queer, but I can't make any guarantees on this as this is gonna be a pretty big fic. I think you can get chrome extensions to replace certain words when you're reading online? If you can find one you could substitute queer for lgbtq+ or any other preferred term you'd like to use. I'm gonna keep using it in this fic because it's important for me to include this part of my identity and I shouldn't have to sacrifice that, but I also want people to be as comfortable as possible if they personally don't like the term.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Facing reality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance opens up to Shiro</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In the end notes, I've cited and copy-pasted the bisexual manifesto for you as it can be hard to find online :) Lance's bisexuality is heavily influenced by both my own bisexuality and the bisexual manifesto and it's going to become a text he finds motivating and inspiring and empowering over time, even if it isn't really mentioned in this chapter</p><p>TWs: Fear of homophobia and hate crime, recollection of homophobia, mentions of family rejection, f-slur (once)</p><p>Shiro's gonna comfort and reassure Lance whilst being honest about his reality<br/>It's gonna start getting better for Lance, dw</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last thing Lance wanted was to show weakness in front of his idol. He didn’t want anybody to see him like this, vulnerable and on the verge of tears, but let alone Shiro. Shiro was too kind, and Lance was too vulnerable, and he was just so scared he’d let all of his secrets spill out, and he didn’t want that. Lance sniffled, before starting with an excuse; “‘s just space dust.” Lance hadn’t expected Shiro to buy it, but he’d hoped Shiro would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately for Lance, Shiro sat beside him instead. </p><p>“Does the space dust make you sad?” Of course his excuse had fallen flat- nobody else was getting space dust allergies, because there was no space dust in this shuttle.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Lance mumbled, “just miss home, is all.” That wasn’t strictly untrue; and Lance had cried about missing home plenty of times, so he doubted Shiro would judge him for that, or find it suspicious.</p><p>Thankfully, Shiro brought the story, his concerned expression relaxing a little. “Me too, kid,” he replied softly. “Feels like forever since I felt the grass or, went for a walk in a park where it rained.”</p><p>“I miss the rain too,” Lance replied, and Shiro laughed softly.</p><p>“Of course you do, you’re a water baby. I used to <em>hate</em> the rain so much. But now I miss it. I remember taking Keith to the zoo once, with Adam. Adam said it was gonna rain because my joints were achy, but I insisted the weather was gonna be clear. Of course, as soon as we got there, it started to rain so Adam spent the whole time glaring at me because the rain kept getting on his glasses so he couldn’t see properly. And Keith found the hippos and absolutely refused to leave. We stood there for two hours gently asking Keith to please let us go home so we could come back another day, but he refused to leave the hippos. So Adam went into the gift shop and spent his last few dollars on this big, soft hippo plushie. Keith carried it with him absolutely everywhere, apart from around school. Hippo even came to the dinner table most nights, except for the time we told Keith he couldn’t have ice cream for breakfast, so apparently Hippo was boycotting the dinner table until we gave in. Adam was disappointed in me when I caved, but he probably would’ve caved too.”</p><p>Lance huffed a small laugh at the anecdote, imagining a tinier Keith with a hippo plush probably as big as him, glaring up at Shiro angrily. It was an adorable image, although he still knew next to nothing about Shiro’s roommate besides the glasses and resting bitch face. Hearing anecdotes of Earth made Lance’s chest ache, but it was a welcome melancholy, a nostalgia he didn’t want to let go of. Shiro took Lance’s small laugh as a cue to continue, which Lance was grateful for.</p><p>“I remember homecoming the once, and everyone was dressed to the nines, acting way older than they were. And Adam was sat in the corner with his headphones in doing math. I went over to him asking why he wasn’t enjoying the party, and he just looked at me like I was stupid. And of course, I was, because it was probably way too loud and he didn’t really know anyone there very well.”</p><p>“Why’d he go to homecoming if he didn’t like it,” Lance frowned, “I mean I can’t really relate, but…”</p><p>“Because I asked him to,” Shiro replied casually, and Lance swore his heart legitimately stopped at the implication. “He wanted to be at homecoming because he knew I really wanted to go, and he really wanted to spend the day with me. When I noticed he was overwhelmed, though, I suggested we go sneak out instead. Of course, Adam protested that we’d get in trouble, but he didn’t really mind. He suggested sneaking out just as much as I did, usually. We ended up by this cliff overlooking the desert, where the stars were bright and you could only faintly see the city in the background. It was romantic until a bug flew into my mouth and I nearly choked to death, which Adam found absolutely hilarious. At school, Adam was always so stressed out he’d barely talk, and he’d always look so uncomfortable, but out there in the desert, away from all the people, he was laughing and smiling and…” Shiro smiled fondly, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “he just looked so beautiful under the stars, and that’s where we shared our first kiss. We were barely seventeen and neither of us had been in a relationship before, but we said we’d figure it out. Adam was… the love of my life, no doubt about it. I think I might have been his too.”</p><p>“You’re…?”</p><p>“Gay,” Shiro said, “you can say the word, Lance. It isn’t a dirty word.” Shiro seemed to be regarding Lance cautiously, but Lance felt now more than ever that he understood why. Shiro had no idea how anybody would react whenever he came out to somebody, and Lance had just been facing how completely and utterly terrifying that was. And Shiro was his idol, and his idol was scared too, and it made Shiro feel a bit more human to Lance.</p><p>“Sorry,” Lance replied, “I know that. I just, didn’t want to assume a label.”</p><p>“Ah. Well, I appreciate that, but for the record, I’m gay. Adam was my fiancé before I left for Kerberos.”</p><p>“Did anyone… give you trouble for it?” Shiro was regarding Lance with an expression Lance couldn’t read, and it made Lance anxious he’d messed up and crossed a line. “I- I mean- you don’t have to tell me or anything, I’m just… I’m sorry, that’s a really invasive question”</p><p>“It’s okay, Lance,” Shiro reassured. “I…” He sighed heavily, dropping his guard slightly. “Did get a lot of hate, yes. I’m not going to sit here and sugar coat it. People were homophobic pieces of shit at the garrison, and in everyday life. And I can’t say it didn’t get to me, because it did. It was rough. But it wasn’t all the time. I was called slurs at lunch and at home- not from my parents-, but I also had a lot of support in my life. Obviously from Adam, but, from others too. Honestly, Adam inspired me a lot. One time, the captain of the football team asked him if it was true he was a fag, and Adam just looked up from his homework and replied; <em>‘why, you interested?’</em> In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s when I fell in love with him. I thought he seemed so unbothered by it and couldn’t understand why he was so unbothered when it hurt me, but… we talked about it a few months later, and, Adam admitted that sometimes he cried himself to sleep because of it. But he decided he wouldn’t let that pain take away the pride he fought so hard to embrace. That it didn’t matter who hated him, because the gay wasn’t going to miraculously go away, and why should he have to be ashamed? He was angry at the world, and decided to be proud out of spite. Adam said every pissed off homophobe added a year to his life. </p><p>“So yeah… I <em>did</em> get a lot of trouble for being gay, but that should never let me deny who I am. I remember being young and questioning, so terrified and wondering how the elder gays did it. How they could just… wear a rainbow and go out on marches and come face to face with homophobes. It took me a few years to learn that it was because they learned to love themselves, and learned to fight for a world where there was no hate. And now… <em>I’m</em> the 'older' gay. I’m exactly the type of man I never thought I could be. Does it still hurt when people throw slurs at me? Yeah. Yeah, it does. But I could never feel ashamed for having loved somebody as perfect as Adam. I refuse to let it take away the pride I spent years building up on my own. I did not go through years of hurt and confusion to let them put me back in the closet. </p><p>“If you would’ve asked fourteen year old Takashi if he was gay, he probably would’ve denied it. But now I’m happy to say I’m gay just to cause a problem at the dinner table if I hear any homophobia. I may not have developed a thick skin, but I did develop a reason to fight. And I learned to love the part of myself that loves men. I refuse to hate myself for it again.”</p><p>Lance didn’t know what to say. Lance didn’t know what to say, because his idol <em>was just like him</em>. Takashi Shirogane liked men, and he was proud of it. He’d found love, he was living proof, sitting next to Lance, that Lance could have a future too. He’d always looked up to Shiro so much, wanted to be like him so badly, but Shiro was always some unobtainable ideal. But now he was learning that Shiro, just like Lance, was <em>human</em>. And he was more of an idol to Lance now than he’d ever been before, because Lance thought he might like men too, and Shiro liked men, and Shiro gave Lance hope that he wouldn’t feel this scared forever. That one day, Lance could be proud to be queer too. “That’s…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Shiro replied, “it’s a lot. Is there… a reason, you asked?” Shiro asked carefully, as though Lance would bolt, and honestly, the question immediately sent a wave of terror through Lance. “I’m not going to assume or judge,” Shiro clarified carefully, “you don’t have to give me an answer you’re not ready to give.”</p><p>Lance decided to deflect for now, although he figured Shiro most likely suspected the true reason why Lance was asking these questions. “How did you… know you were gay?”</p><p>“Ah,” Shiro replied, as though he’d been asked this question a lot by other questioning queers. “Well… liking men was a pretty strong indicator to me.” Shiro huffed out a laugh at himself, then continued. “I mean… some people seemed to just, always know they were gay, but it took me a while to figure it out. I mean my whole childhood it was just… assumed I’d be straight. I had no reason to question it. I was a boy, and boys liked girls. So when those feelings didn’t develop… well, I just assumed that maybe I was a late bloomer, or that other guys were exaggerating when they talked about girls. I wouldn’t say I was repulsed when boys talked about girls, but… it didn’t feel <em>right</em> when I tried to think about girls. I felt uncomfortable. And for a while… I thought that maybe I was broken. Because boys were supposed to like girls, and gay people were this… other community, that existed outside of the society I was a part of. I wasn’t one of them, how could I be? But then, I… remember sex ed class, and everybody was talking about what attraction felt like to them. And the girls were describing their crushes on guys, talking about how hot boys were, and, well. I mean, I couldn’t argue with them on that. But that was normal, right? All guys thought guys were attractive, it didn’t make them gay. Well. Apparently it did. I talked about it with the guys in the locker room to confirm it was a normal bro thing to want to kiss your homies, and- well. Let’s just say I found out that I can, in fact, be squeezed into a locker. So then I… really believed that maybe it would go away. That my hormones were just playing tricks on me and, I’d start liking women soon enough. And then Adam happened. And… wow. He was beautiful, and strong, and handsome, and witty, and savage, and… <em>perfect</em>. And… I tried to pretend that those feelings didn’t exist, but then he’d laugh or smile, and… the butterflies would just be going crazy and I’d be so nervous around him and I found myself intoxicated and addicted to being the one making him smile. Every time I got to talk to Adam, and got to be the one to make him smile, it was like… my whole world got brighter.” </p><p>Shiro was smiling fondly, and it was so painfully clear how in love he still was with Adam. “I found eventually, that… I didn’t <em>want</em> to be straight. Because if being straight meant I never got to feel these things for Adam, well. I never wanted to lose that feeling. And when we kissed, I… I <em>knew</em> I was gay. And I just felt so- so <em>happy</em>... so <em>right</em>... it felt so right and so <em>real</em> and… yeah… I came out as gay after that, and I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore. And I had to fight <em>so hard</em> for myself, had to fight so hard to get respected, but I did it. I refused to stop being gay. I refused to go back in the closet. I accepted my role as a simp for Adam, and never went back.”</p><p>“I never realised you struggled so much with accepting yourself,” Lance replied quietly, and Shiro nodded quietly. </p><p>“Yeah… I struggled a lot. But it’s okay, because I’m comfortable with who I am now.”</p><p>“That’s… so brave of you, Shiro…”</p><p>“Thank you, Lance.” </p><p>Lance took a deep breath. Shiro would <em> understand</em>. Shiro was the one person right now in the entire world who Lance could say for certain would be empathetic towards Lance, and he really needed the guidance of an older gay whilst he navigated his complicated feelings. “I like women,” Lance began, although he didn’t chance a glance up at Shiro in case Shiro took the statement as Lance being an insecure straight. “But I think-” Lance swallowed hard, the words choking in his throat and threatening to push back down. “I might be- that I might- um-” Lance huffed out a deep breath, trying to find a way to force the words out. “I think I might like guys.” </p><p>He let out a shaky breath, the tears that had threatened to spill out earlier taking an unexpected tumble down his cheeks, hot and burning. Lance’s whole chest felt just about ready to implode, because saying it out loud had made it suddenly so <em>real</em>. He didn’t want to cry- not about this. He was supposed to be <em>proud</em>. He wasn’t supposed to cry over this. He sniffled, wiping harshly at his eyes with his arm and trying to force himself to stop.</p><p>“That’s okay, Lance. You’re not alone.”</p><p>Lance couldn’t hide the tears after that, because he’d needed to hear that for <em>so long</em> and he was so so scared and he’d really needed to hear those words. He’d needed to hear that it was okay. “God, thank you. I… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Hey now, don’t be sorry,” Shiro soothed gently, putting his arm around Lance and squeezing his shoulder supportively. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m so proud of you. You can get through this, I believe in you. I <em>know</em> you can learn to accept yourself, and I know it’s not going to be easy, but I’m here for you.”</p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry, I… I’m just, so scared, and- confused, and- it’s just so much to think about and my mom and- how will I- what if-...”</p><p>“<em>If</em>...” Shiro began carefully, “they don’t accept you, then we can make a plan for that. We can get you a solid support network and figure out a plan for if you need somewhere to stay after that. We can walk through all the ways of coming out, and gather all the resources you might need to explain to them how you feel and educate them on who you are. And you don’t have to come out if you don’t want to. If the closet is safer for you, and more comfortable for you, it is perfectly okay to stay in there until you feel ready to come out. There’s no rush, and I’m not going to out you before you’re ready, okay? I won’t let you go through it alone if I can help it. We can work on getting you ready to come out to people, that’s okay. I’ve been there, I can help guide you through it. And if it helps… I really don’t think any of your team will respond badly to you not being straight. You’re just gonna have to trust me on that one. I mean I know for a fact Keith will accept it, I mean, he always supported me and Adam. I’m sure if anyone ever did give you trouble for it, you’d have me and Keith at the absolute <em>least</em> fighting in your corner and helping you through it. Just know you can come to me, okay? I’m here to support you, not just as your team leader, but as your ally and friend. I’ve got your back, Lance.” </p><p>Lance nodded, and buried his face in Shiro’s armour. He didn’t want anyone to see him crying, and he really needed the comfort. Shiro wrapped his arms around Lance in a tight hug, and Lance finally let himself cry. He let himself grieve. Because he needed to grieve the life he thought he’d have, and the amount he might have lost because of his sexuality. He needed to grieve the easy life he’d imagined, because any potential partner could now reject him because of his sexuality. Even if they really fancied him, they could reject him based on the fact he liked guys and girls and non-binary people, and that hurt deeply. It hurt because he could be denied jobs because of his sexuality, no matter how lawful or unlawful it may have been. It hurt because Lance knew that there were people in the world who would gladly murder him themselves because of who he loved. So he allowed himself to grieve, and he allowed himself the space to truly process his fear. He was absolutely petrified, paralysed by the terror in his blood. It felt like his blood ran cold whenever he thought about losing his family, but right now he felt so safe, so reassured. </p><p>Even if the worst happened; even if he found himself on the streets, battered and bruised, somebody was here to pick him up. He didn’t have to face any of it alone anymore. He didn’t have to go into this experience blind, because he could talk to somebody who had already been there, and make a plan. He could make a plan, and that was so much pressure off his shoulders. And he was so grateful that Shiro didn’t judge him for being so scared, that he didn’t feel offended by Lance’s fear.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <cite>Bisexual Manifesto, Bay Area Bisexual Network, Anything that Moves, 1990</cite>
</p><p>We are tired of being analyzed, defined and represented by people other than ourselves, or worse yet, not considered at all. We are frustrated by the imposed isolation and invisibility that comes from being told or expected to choose either a homosexual or heterosexual identity.</p><p>Monosexuality is a heterosexist dictate used to oppress homosexuals and to negate the validity of bisexuality.</p><p>Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. Do not assume that bisexuality is binary or duogamous in nature: that we have “two” sides or that we must be involved simultaneously with both genders to be fulfilled human beings. In fact, don’t assume that there are only two genders. Do not mistake our fluidity for confusion, irresponsibility, or an inability to commit. Do not equate promiscuity, infidelity, or unsafe sexual behavior with bisexuality. Those are human traits that cross all sexual orientations. Nothing should be assumed about anyone’s sexuality, including your own.</p><p>We are angered by those who refuse to accept our existence; our issues; our contributions; our alliances; our voice. It is time for the bisexual voice to be heard.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Overwhelmed and struggling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance tries out labels, and festivals suck</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Sensory overload, panic, crowds/festivals, parties, brief alcohol mention (nobody drinks in this), impostor syndrome, drowning metaphors (to explain emotions), fear of team dying (nobody dies or gets injured in this)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken Lance a while to calm himself down from hysterics. He’d cried so much his head hurt, and his eyes were heavy. Shiro had carried on out of the shuttle and told everyone that Lance wasn’t feeling very well, and left it at that. Lance had taken a few minutes to mentally prepare, rocking himself back and forth and hugging himself until he knew he needed the fresh air. He still felt overwhelmed, but they were stopping off on this planet on a tight schedule. Hunk and Pidge immediately looked to Lance with concern as soon as he stepped off, but Lance couldn’t meet their eyes. He knew he looked pale and rough; he didn’t need a mirror to tell himself that, so he was glad he could pretend that he was ill for the day. It meant nobody had to know, and if Lance felt too overwhelmed, he could make up an excuse about stomach ache and hide in the bathrooms or go lie down in the shuttle, and nobody would question it. Allura gave Lance a soft, sympathetic smile, and patted him briefly on the shoulder. Lance was glad the feelings he’d once had for her had faded, because it allowed him to be closer to her; as a friend. </p><p>Keith was staring at Lance intently, until Lance looked back at him, at which point Keith walked towards him and placed another bismuth in his hands. “Don’t eat it. It won’t help your stomach ache.” Lance laughed lightly, clutching the bismuth tightly. It made Lance smile a little, knowing that Keith was trying to make him feel better, even if he didn’t necessarily know how to. But the bismuth would keep his hands busy, and give him something to look at when things got too overwhelming.</p><p>“Thanks, Keith,” Lance replied softly, and Keith nodded, finally breaking eye contact. Lance hadn’t failed to notice that Keith and eye contact weren’t exactly friends, so he didn’t pressure Keith to make eye contact when he didn’t want to. But when Keith did make eye contact, it was so intense, and Lance couldn’t help but feel like Keith was trying to remind him that he was important, somehow, that he mattered, and Keith cared and wanted him to know that and be okay. It was… </p><p>It made Lance feel…</p><p>He looked over to Shiro, who gave him a soft smile, and Lance made the decision to stick next to Shiro for the remainder of the day. He felt so supported, and he knew he could tell Shiro if he felt uncomfortable, and Shiro would cover for him. Lance felt lost, like a baby duck, and Shiro was just so easy to attach yourself to, because he had major supportive Space Dad Vibes, and Lance really needed that kind of comfort right now. Shiro had gone from some distant hero that Lance could only aspire to, to being somebody real, and tangible. He was willing to keep Lance safe, to allow him the room to explore his identity safely and comfortably, at his own pace. Shiro would protect him, help him figure out what to do if things ever went wrong, help him to find safety and shelter. And right now, Lance felt vulnerable, and walking besides Shiro made him feel less so. </p><p>Lance had pushed himself so much in the past hour to think about who he was and how he felt, and he was exhausted by it. He didn’t have the energy anymore, but saying it out loud had made it feel so much more real and so much more tangible and Lance didn’t know where to go from here. Maybe trying labels? Lance had considered pansexual as a label, but it didn’t feel like home. It felt strange in his mind, when he applied it to himself. But bisexual had always felt familiar, somehow. Maybe because it was the first m-spec label Lance had heard of, or maybe because it’s the one he’d already applied to himself before. He’d read the bisexual manifesto, liked the way of defining bi for himself as attraction to the same gender and other genders, liked how it said not to assume that there were only two genders. It felt… whole. </p><p>Because Lance felt his attraction was more of that dual nature; same and other, rather than the all-encompassing pan. Lance felt as though his experiences with women and his experiences with his feelings for men were different, whole experiences, and he felt as though pan, for himself, would erase that difference if he applied it to himself. His experiences with men would always be different to how they were with women, same for enbies, and Lance felt as though the bisexual label separated that better for him, personally. Pansexual was a beautiful label, but it just wasn’t for him. As for omnisexual and polysexual, they simply didn’t feel like home. Whilst he fully supported poly and omni people- and their decision to choose a label with the nuances that fit their experiences- Lance felt as though he wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable applying them to himself, like they simply didn't quite fit. Just like pan, they were beauty meant to enrich the lives of others, but for Lance, they didn’t make him feel like he’d come home. </p><p>But bisexual? Lance had fallen in love with the label. He’d fallen in love with the words he’d read in the bisexual manifesto, remembered the feeling of being understood when he first read it. He remembered tearing up, because he felt seen. Perhaps somebody else would think another label better applied to Lance, and perhaps for their own definitions they might have been right- but not by Lance’s definitions of his own identity. Bisexual fit him like a glove. The words in the bisexual manifesto had resonated deep within him long before he’d allowed himself to acknowledge that they genuinely applied to him. Bisexual was <em>Lance</em>, described to a T.</p><p>Lance felt the urge to suppress and repress; to dismiss himself, to tell himself that he was just being silly, because what if he wasn’t really bi? What then?</p><p>But…</p><p>He looked to Shiro, remembered everything that Shiro had said to him; remembered how real and raw it had all felt. Did people who were pretending really feel so much fear over being rejected, when they could just go back to being straight? Did people who were pretending feel so much relief at being able to open up to somebody who promised them a shoulder to lean on?</p><p>...Lance had told himself for so long now that he must be faking it, that he was deluded, confused, just going through a phase and that puberty was messing with his head. Shiro had thought all of that once, and now he was <em>gay</em>. He’d been engaged to a <em>man</em>. It made Lance feel as though, maybe, this was real. His experiences as a young, questioning bisexual, had similarities to that of Shiro, an out and proud gay man. It made Lance realise that maybe he <em>was</em> bi. Because surely, making it up and faking it required you to genuinely sit there and decide to fake it, knowing you didn’t believe you were actually who you were pretending to be. And Lance? Lance had been genuinely thinking that he might be attracted to men for a long, long time.</p><p>Lance didn’t feel fully confident solidly saying he was bi yet; didn’t feel as though he’d taken enough steps to earn that title, but he felt as though, maybe… maybe it fit just right, and maybe he really was bi. Maybe, there was a stronger chance that at the end of his questioning process he would find out that he was bi than there was a chance that he wasn’t, or that he was just straight and faking it all along. So maybe… just maybe, the next stage was seeing if the label really did fit.</p><p>Lance decided to progress his questioning to the next phase, the part he’d been scared of. Allowing himself to seriously say, in his own head, that he was attracted to men, and that he was bisexual, to see if it felt comfortable, and to see if it felt true.</p><p>The anxiety of admitting it to himself made him feel nauseous, because he felt as though he already knew the answers, that he was stalling for time. That he didn’t need to try the label out, because he already knew that it fit. And he knew that this was the worst time to be caught up in his own head, on a diplomacy mission where he really needed to focus, but Lance knew that it wasn’t going to happen today. His head was a complete mess, and he was barely finding the energy to focus on his own personal reflection. He wouldn’t be at all, if only his mind could stop obsessing. It was becoming so exhausting, so real. The cost of love was a price paid only by the few whose affections blossomed countercurrent to society’s bounds of acceptability. It was a cost that should have been reserved for deviants and predators, yet those fond of heart for the same sex were treated as though they were wrong instead, when they should have been embraced with compassion and love. Lance felt like he was drowning in an ocean of overwhelming rejection before he’d even been rejected. Suddenly, the ocean was less inviting, and more terrifying. It felt like one minute he’d been enchanted by this beautiful river, only to step his foot inside what should be shallow water to find himself being pulled beneath the surface, like the currents of the Bolton Strid had pulled him deep through the crack in the Earth, underwater rocks meeting him before he could pull himself up from the surface. </p><p>“Lance?”</p><p>“I’m doing okay,” Lance lied easily, and Shiro didn’t question it. When had Lance gotten so good at lying about his emotions? He remembered when he was younger, how quickly his mom had always noticed when he was struggling. He remembered when he started hiding his emotions as a teenager, struggling with so much mess in his head, trying desperately not to worry anybody. Over time, he’d gotten so good at lying that he didn’t know how to end the charade; didn’t know how to admit that he was struggling, that he just wanted to sleep until the hurt was over, wake up when he was wiser, older, when his heart was solidified against the hurt and he could cope and thrive instead of drowning.</p><p>Lance took a deep breath, looking down to the bismuth in his hands against the onslaught of his turbulent emotions. The bismuth was complex, winding, and Lance could find himself tracing each line down into each core of the crystal, following another back out and wondering if he could explore every last corner and step. The amber, almost red light cast by the planet’s sun distorted the colours of the crystal, yet it shined in rainbow nonetheless when the light caught it. It was less overwhelming to look at the patterns of the bismuth than it was to look up and around. The planet’s sun was large in the sky, too red-tinged for Lance to feel safe. He had the irrational fear that the sun could destabilise and go supernova at any point, and Lance and the bismuth alike would become rainbow stardust once more. Maybe it wasn’t so irrational, given the fact that the star appeared to be a red giant, but it didn’t bear focusing on too heavily. He didn’t have the energy right now. Besides, the people they were visiting had advanced technology, and if they felt as though their star was going to wipe them out, they could easily relocate, so it likely wasn’t an issue. Pidge seemed to be glancing up at the sun too, which made Lance uneasy. </p><p>“Force field,” Pidge noted, jolting Lance from his thoughts. “Around the sun. Huh… smart. Wonder if it’ll hold.” Lance decided that the force field preventing it from exploding or expanding outwards was good enough for him, and returned his focus to the bismuth whilst Pidge continued to vocalise her observations. He wasn’t really looking where he was walking, but he doubted he’d trip up.</p><p>The bismuth was chunkier than the ones Keith had already gifted Lance. It was heavier, bulkier in his palm. It wasn’t the squishy texture Lance preferred to hold onto and fidget with, but it was the right kind of shiny to pull Lance out of his own head and allow him to focus on one thing instead of getting overwhelmed by his panic and the noise. </p><p>Because this planet was <em>loud</em>. The whine of generators, low and heavy, was almost nauseatingly deep. The generators reminded him vaguely of Naxzela, and Lance did his best to try and block out that memory. They weren’t the same, Lance knew that, but he couldn’t shake away the spike in panic, the image of Keith’s glider going kamikaze head-first into the shield. He looked up sharply, taking in a deep breath at the sight of Keith waking ahead of him. Right. Keith had lived. He was safe. He was okay. Everything was okay. </p><p>Lance took another deep breath, focusing back on the bismuth until they reached a crowd. There was some kind of festival, Lance guessed, given the music. Different woodwind instruments carved from wood and different string instruments carved from rocks played gentle but upbeat melodies, reminding Lance of folk music. It was loud, though, heavy like a concert, the kind that made you feel as though it could force your heart to beat to its rhythm. It made Lance feel vaguely unwell, but he tried not to dwell on it too hard. He focused on breathing, clutching the bismuth tightly in his pocket and blindly tracing its shapes to try and ground himself. </p><p>The irony was, Lance loved parties. But he hated festivals. At a party, you were usually inside. There were clear boundaries to the crowd, a clear exit he could run to. You knew to expect raucous behaviour and loud music that drowned out speech. It was loud, but it was the good type of loud, where everybody would be too drunk the next day to care about how embarrassingly bad your dancing was or how many people you’d flirted with or who you’d kissed if you were single. Whilst Lance might not have ever gotten drunk at a party, and whilst he didn’t really like the way that some people behaved, he liked how easily you could get lost in the dancing and the people, how easy it was to forget who he was and focus on how good it felt to move, how good it felt to dance in time to the pound of the music in his chest and the way it made his adrenaline spike alongside his confidence.</p><p>But festivals? All the crowds were outside, and Lance couldn’t see where it ended. Whilst there were less crowded areas, they soon became full with unexpected conversations and crying children. There weren’t rooms to escape to in order to calm down, the bathroom facilities were almost always nasty and certainly not a good place to hide in until you were ready to face the crowd again, and worse, festivals were inconsistent. The volume of the music depended on where you stood, the crowds changed every five seconds, the shouting and laughter everywhere. Parties were too loud to hear the talking, festivals were not, and Lance’s focus was pulled apart by the voices shouting across the plains. There was no exit to run to, no quiet room to rush into whilst he controlled his breathing and made the horrible overwhelming feeling of dread go away. </p><p>Lance hadn’t even realised he’d started to breathe heavily in his panic until he felt something being pushed into his chest. He looked down, a pair of black headphones with red and white spikes being shoved against him. He looked up, barely able to process that the guy was Keith. Keith looked like he was talking, and Lance could hear it, but there was just so so much and Lance really wasn’t processing anything. Keith gestured his hands over his own ears, nodding towards the headphones, and Lance finally got the message, pulling the headphones tight over his own ears, looking back to Keith, who gestured to the end of the crowd by the palace steps. Lance nodded, and Keith honest-to-god murder walked until the crowd parted, and the team could reach the steps. Lance tried his hardest to stay composed, but he felt weak and dizzy, sitting down on the steps. The headphones took away so much of the noise, and whilst they felt perhaps a little tight, they made the noise go away, and Lance had needed that so badly. He pulled his knees up to his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around himself and pressing his face into his knees whilst he focused on breathing through it. He didn’t have the mental energy to care about the mission or what his team must be thinking right now. He was already on the edge of his limitations from his crisis, and now he was just overwhelmed by all the sensory input. </p><p>He could still feel his body protesting against the input from the environment, could still feel his chest constricting and his head hurting. His ears still hurt despite the quiet, and his skin felt like it was crawling. He wanted to rock himself back and forth to make it go away, to help soothe himself, but he was too close to a crowd, who could judge him, and fear and embarrassment stopped him from doing so. </p><p>He took a deep breath and looked up, although he wasn’t expecting to see Keith sitting beside him, looking at Lance encouragingly and rocking himself casually. It was probably in time to the music, Lance thought, but it helped Lance to feel a little less embarrassed, pressing his face back into his knees and rocking like he needed to. </p><p>Lance wasn’t sure how long it took him to reach a point where his thoughts were able to slowly bleed back in, and he was able to focus on his breathing and calming himself down. He focused on taking slow, steady breaths, focused on his body and how he felt, focused on the way he hugged himself tightly to ground himself, remind himself that he was here and he was whole and he was back in his own head instead of drowning in his senses. He took a few more deep breaths, before lifting his head and dragging his hands down his face, not yet ready to open his eyes and face the sight of the crowd. He leaned back slightly to cool himself down from overheating, rested his elbows on his knees and tried to relax the tension in his muscles.</p><p>He was so disappointed in himself for getting overwhelmed, because what if they’d have been attacked? What if this happened in the middle of an important mission? What would he do then? Feeling guilty for holding back his team, Lance slowly peeled his hands away from his face, taking several anxious deep breaths before finally opening his eyes. His team was all sitting on the steps too, relaxed. Pidge was sipping water, a half-eaten breakfast bar in her hand. Hunk was reading over notes he’d prepared for this mission on his tablet. Allura was pulling her newly braided hair back into a hair tie, and Shiro was carefully observing the crowd. And Keith was still sitting beside Lance, hadn’t stopped rocking until Lance had.</p><p>Keith didn’t talk, offering Lance a soft smile. Lance returned it to confirm that he was okay, and Keith turned away again, getting a tangled mess of some kind of putty-like rods out of his pocket, squeezing it and tangling and untangling the ends of the rods, looking pretty focused on it. Lance remembered the bismuth in his pocket, pulling it out and rolling it in his hands, before holding it so that the light caught it, watching it glisten and shift in chrome. He traced the swirling patterns with his eyes, watched the way the light danced across the edges until his head felt a lot more balanced and everything wasn’t quite so overwhelming as before. </p><p>He didn’t feel fully recovered from this, but he felt okay enough to continue the mission, he hoped. He didn’t have much of a choice anyway. Whilst he knew that Shiro had told everybody that Lance wasn’t feeling very well, he still felt guilty at the idea of just leaving and sitting this one out. He really needed to lie down in his bed and pull the thick quilt over his head and curl up tight with his music and eye mask until he finally felt fully balanced again, but he couldn’t. He might have gotten over the initial sensory overload, but that didn’t mean he was fully recovered. He needed time alone, where he could block out everything, and he didn’t have that. Comfort was a luxury in space, Lance thought.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I posted this at like 1am so I technically missed my Friday posting deadline? But also I'm still comfortably awake, my day began at like 3pm when I woke up, lmao. Plus, it's still Friday somewhere in the world anyways so! Technically posted on time if I really reach for excuses alskdjsl</p><p>Also a reminder that how people define their labels is personal for them, so some pan people may find experiences in common with Lance, or some bi people may not relate to how Lance distinguishes his identity, etc etc, and that's perfectly okay, the human experience is diverse and valid nonetheless.</p><p>Also the Bolton Strid is lowkey terrifying, it's on like- the river Wharfe I think? But it's this really thin body of water/stream (6ft) that looks super pretty and really easy to leap and jump across, or step over, some even think it's like, knee deep- but the wharf is super wide and calm (30ft) and that suddenly squeezes into the fast-flowing Strid within like- 100 yards, so it suddenly goes very, very deep (nobody's entirely sure how deep, but easily 30ft) and fast and there's lots of rocks and cavern systems beneath it to hold all the water volume. It's said to have a 100% fatality rate, and I think there's even mentions in songs/folklore/fiction/poems etc? It's super cool anyways, look it up</p><p>Also I like- didn't write at all this week pretty much, but oh well, I'm ahead of posting schedule anyways! (as in, I've written several chapters ahead so I'll still have something to post on next Friday.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Patience did not yield focus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which boredom comes to nerf Lance and the ambassadors are asses about it</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was bored af when I wrote this chapter so I just. Gave Lance my boredom. My focus levels whilst writing this were just *smiles and nods wondering wtf my mom just said to me*. Windows xp noises ensue.</p><p>TW: brief fear of mind reading (no actual mind reading takes place)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Walking into the Talustrean Diplomacy Hall was just as intimidating to Lance as walking into Iverson’s office at the garrison had been. There was an imposing presence here, the feeling that everything you did was being judged. The Talustrean ambassadors themselves were a very proud group of people, in a way that reminded Lance of the staff at the garrison. Whilst the people outside had been loud and carefree, the ambassadors were rigid. The soft antlers the festival-goers sported outside were tied back or clipped short and flat for the ambassadors. The comfortable variety of modest and revealing clothing of the people outside was nowhere to be seen, replaced by deep green robes that reminded Lance of a judge. Sword motifs adjourned the walls, large and imposing- a symbol of justice for the Talustreans. Lance felt as though he was beneath the sword of damocles, as though he was under scrutiny already.</p><p>Keith seemed to be drawn to the sword motifs, pausing to trace over the pommel of the one closest to him, following the intricate swirling designs with his fingers. He frowned, before stepping away, and Lance didn’t miss the way the ambassadors stared at him. Lance couldn’t read their faces; different planets had completely different body language and facial expression customs than humans did, although Lance felt as though perhaps they were unimpressed. The Talustreans drew their gaze over everybody, pausing long enough to likely get a good first impression. They seemed most impressed with Shiro’s military stature and Allura’s royal decorum, seemed to take notes of Pidge and Hunk but seemed to approve- and then their gaze fell to Lance. Lance, who was bouncing his leg under the seat and tapping his pen against the paper. If Lance had to hazard a guess, he’d peg them as disapproving, judging, so he stopped, sitting on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting so much.</p><p>The negotiations started shortly after Allura introduced the team, making small talk in the way she’d gotten good at by now. Lance was seated nearest to the exit, as per Hunk’s concern due to Lance’s excuse of being unwell. The negotiations seemed to be going smoothly, and Lance was able to vaguely follow along at first, although he found himself unable to stop the way his mind kept blanking and leaving him feeling fuzzy and unfocused. Negotiations could get technical, and Lance didn’t always understand what was going on. He zoned out when they started talking about export tariffs, but a gentle nudge from Hunk reminded him of where he was and that he had to focus, even if it was increasingly hard. He tapped his pen against the notebook he had again in an attempt to somehow ground himself to the real world, but a short, disapproving look from one of the ambassadors had him abruptly stopping and putting his pen down in favour of tugging at the fabric of his paladin suit around his wrist.</p><p>He managed to gather enough focus to listen in on some comments about import tax, but as soon as technical terms started to eek their way in more and more, Lance found himself feeling lost and frustrated. He’d been in this meeting for what felt like an hour now, and his body did not like being made to stay still in one place for very long. He squirmed in his seat, trying to get rid of the achy energy that accompanied his need to move, before bouncing his leg when he realised that he was drawing attention to himself. Unfortunately, two of the diplomats kept sending him looks, and upon hearing one mutter something about ‘unprofessionalism’ to a colleague, Lance forced himself to still. He found the bismuth once more, settling for quietly fiddling with it under the table. It was barely enough, but he was just about able to remain present in the conversation despite his mood dropping further, until he dropped the bismuth and it clattered to the floor loudly, drawing the full attention of the opposing diplomatic party to him. </p><p>They stared at him expectantly, and Lance felt his stomach drop with shame and guilt and anxiety and a strange sense of sadness. He felt like a child sitting outside the principal’s office, being chastised for not paying enough attention in class. Lance quietly picked the bismuth up, opting to say nothing and fix his gaze to the table like a scolded child. </p><p>The ambassadors continued their talks, but not before giving Lance a lingering, disapproving look. Lance felt the urge to move come back with a vengeance, sitting on his hands again and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He could <em>feel</em> himself getting twitchy, could feel the urge to move protesting against his refusal to indulge it. When the urge to move wasn’t satisfied, the urge to make noise came, although he tried his hardest to keep his mouth clamped shut and keep his tongue wedged tightly onto the roof of his mouth. </p><p>After another eternity of trying and failing to focus on the Talustrean trade deals, he found himself letting out a loud breath and slumping in his seat, picking up his pen and holding it up to the light, staring at all the little faux diamonds in the barrel and the way they shined and rolled. He pouted like a duck and attempted to balance it on his top lip, although it wasn’t worth the blind panic Lance felt when the pen dropped down, and Lance barely managed to catch it before it could hit the edge of the table. Lance counted himself very lucky, resisting the urge to start clicking the pen in favour of doing tiny scribbles all over his notepad, hoping he could pretend to be taking notes. After all, how were they to know Lance’s language wasn’t made up of scribble-like letters? Whilst he might not have been letting himself move like he needed to, this would have to suffice. Lance found himself pausing his scribbles when his wrist started to cramp, instead chewing on the end of the pen until it made his teeth ache, at which point he returned to scribbling. </p><p>Unfortunately, scribbling on a page wasn’t quite the same as actually moving his body, and Lance found himself quickly becoming bored of the scribbling, and he already knew that it was the kind of bored where nothing would feel like enough to satisfy him. He resisted the urge to groan out loud, a telltale ache in his head starting to take up even more of his focus. He decided to forget about diplomatic etiquette, slouching forwards and resting his head on his arms on the table. Lance vaguely registered an ambassador question the behaviour, but Lance didn’t care to respond. Shiro covered for him, informing them that Lance hadn’t been feeling well. It didn’t feel that far from the truth anymore- Lance felt utterly miserable now, bored and somehow overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at once. He was never the right kind of ‘whelmed’, it seemed. Was that a thing? Oh man, imagine if people walked around saying they felt perfectly whelmed with the world or something. That would be weird. </p><p>Lance allowed himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes a little.</p><p>...he woke up to disapproving stares from the Talustreans, although thankfully Allura requested a recess, citing Lance’s illness and exhaustion as the reason. Lance was thankful, getting out of his seat slowly and following the team to the break room. </p><p>The walk was long enough to wake Lance up, although the crick in his neck and ache in his back probably wasn’t worth his nap, and neither was the exhaustion and increased boredom that accompanied it. However, he was grateful that he could finally move, resuming bouncing his leg once he was seated again. Allura asked if he was feeling alright, if he needed to sit the rest of this one out, and Lance lied casually on both counts, before excusing himself to the bathroom to go splash water on his face and calm himself down some. He stretched out his joints, yawning and glancing at his reflection. He looked like shit, skin slightly ashen and eyebags like Keith’s. He splashed more water over his face with a sigh, glad it helped stave off the anxious pounding of his heart he hadn’t even noticed. He took more deep breaths, before leaning heavily against the sinks and avoiding the mirror. He knew if he glanced back at it, he wouldn’t recognise himself in it. So for the first time in a long, long time, Lance looked away. He didn’t want to confront anything else about himself. He just wanted to focus on the diplomacy and sit still like everybody else. With another deep breath, he pushed himself away from the sinks and dried his face on what he hoped was alien paper towels, and headed back to the group. </p><p>They were all laughing and talking, so Lance stayed back and sat alone. Keith seemed to be doing the same, and Lance could hear how loud the music he was blasting from his headphones must’ve been from across the room. Keith briefly glanced over at Lance, then looked away again, leaning his head back against the wall. Lance took a deep breath and finally allowed himself the luxury of part relaxing, even though he hadn’t unclenched his jaw or un-hunched his shoulders. But he let himself take as much of a mental break as possible, legs outstretched in front of him and feet moving from side to side. The constant movement helped him recharge a little easier, until it was time to go back into the meeting.</p><p>He was still stupidly bored, but he hoped he’d be able to focus better this time. The negotiations turned into cryo-pod technology, which Lance knew a little more about than he did finances or whatever the fuck they’d been talking about previously. </p><p>They were rambling on about issues they were having with their own, how sometimes the cryo-fluid didn’t freeze fully and left a wet coating inside that dripped into the wounds and-</p><p>“Do you use Beluvian cleaning jelly?” Everybody snapped their gaze towards Lance. Lance failed to pick up on the disapproving glares from the Talustreans, and took the attention as a cue to continue. “Beluvian cleaning jelly lowers the melting point of cryo-fluid, so it means the fluid won’t freeze at the right temperature. I suggest Alectonian disinfecting fluid instead, and save the Beluvian cleaning jelly for your ships.” Lance was met with stares. “What? I learned from Coran when I was cleaning out the cryopods,” he shrugged, “it’s a common problem people have.”</p><p>“Whilst we appreciate the input,” an ambassador began through their teeth, “it is <em>rude</em> to interrupt others when they are talking, and we will choose to disregard your comment, and if you-”</p><p>“He’s right,” Keith interrupted suddenly, “it also reacts badly with water, which I’m assuming is what you’re using to rinse it off. When mixed with water, it creates a mild nerve gas. That’ll be why your patients aren’t waking up, or experience unexplained cognitive and motor delays for a couple of hours after leaving the pods.” The ambassadors levelled Lance with a strong glare, even though Keith had also interrupted them too. </p><p>The meeting continued, and Lance didn’t have it in him to focus after that. He knew he’d fucked up by interrupting, but he’d honest to gods tried his hardest to contribute and gain their respect again by being helpful, and it had backfired. He should’ve waited, but he didn’t want to forget and lose his train of thought, and he had missed that the social cues all pointed to it being a bad time for him to speak. He found himself bouncing his leg again, increasingly anxious and guilty feeling. His mood had finally picked up, he’d finally felt useful, and now it crashed right back down instead.</p><p>He tried to ground himself again, remind himself not to let his thoughts spiral with his mood, to remind himself that things likely weren’t as bad as he felt they were right now, but with the gentle reminders that soothed him ever so slightly came the sudden onslaught of his earlier crisis. He’d finally been able to push it out of his head, so naturally, it came knocking. He tried to ignore it once more, because this wasn’t the time or the place, but it only pushed more insistently at the edges of his mind until it broke in and realisation hit him all at once.</p><p>This was his first mission since he decided to identify as bisexual in his head. His first mission since realising fully he wasn’t straight. He was a bi man, in front of these probably straight ambassadors, and wow, that felt weird and alienating. Could they tell? Was he sitting gay? Did straight boys sit like this? Should he even try to hide it, or should he let it show? How should he act? Maybe if he thought about how bi it was, it would somehow radiate and let them know. Or what if this time, they really could read his thoughts? Oh god, what if he developed a limp wrist whilst talking now he knew he liked men? What if the way he  naturally rested his weight on one hip with his hand on his hip whilst talking to people had clued them in? Was Lance overthinking this? Absolutely. Was he being irrational and stupid over it? Absolutely. Did his brain care at the time? Absolutely not.</p><p>It hit him full force, right as he once again started noting the imposing presence of the room. It made him feel exposed, judged, like something about the room knew who he was, knew he was a fraud letting everybody think he was straight and, oh god, was he creepy for not letting the team know he liked men? Was it wrong to pursue a friendship with Keith when Keith didn’t know that Lance was bi? Lance grimaced, trying to remind himself that no, that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t the right way to think and it wasn’t helpful, and that he should focus on the meeting or at least calm his thoughts.</p><p>He knew he had to give himself the room to reflect on this, because it was here to stay, and the thoughts weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. They’d consume him either ways, so he needed to try to control them. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he was closeted. Nobody but Shiro knew that he was bi, and nobody had reason to assume he might be. Society was still overwhelmingly heteronormative, so they probably noticed Lance’s attraction to women and assumed that he was straight unless proven otherwise. Lance reminded himself that nobody could ‘tell’ he was gay, especially not by overanalysing the way he was sitting. The Talustreans weren’t a species who were able to read minds without machines, and whilst Lance briefly worried if the sword statues and motifs could have concealed mind reading devices in them, he reminded himself that the Talustreans likely would have reacted to his thoughts by now. Nonetheless, he called one of them a dickhead in his head, rather amusing himself in the process. </p><p>So nobody but Shiro knew he was bi, and even then, Shiro only really knew that Lance was struggling with his sexuality. And besides, Shiro was gay, and Shiro was kind. He’d covered for Lance and lied for him, which Lance was eternally grateful for. </p><p>Lance was… alone. Sure, he was in a room full of people, but he was alone in his head. Maybe Blue could read his thoughts, but she’d never planted any suggestions in Lance’s brain to indicate that she might know. She’d missed him. Red never pried, which had always surprised Lance, because he’d honestly expected her to immediately invade his mind and push him to his limits, but red was more private, efficient, encouraging in a fiery way- but not invasive. So Lance didn’t think the lions would know, and he was sure that if they did and they’d told the other paladins, Hunk would’ve guiltily blurted something out to him about it by now. </p><p>Lance could have secrets. His thoughts were safely contained in his own head. Nobody would force him to tell. These weren’t his siblings. They didn’t go snooping through his journal. Not even Pidge, although that was because when she’d tried to, Lance had lied and said it had details about his love life, at which point Pidge decided that she didn’t want to know. Of course, it was all perfectly innocent, but if implying that it wasn’t kept Pidge out of his diary, then Lance was perfectly fine with that. Lance… could genuinely give himself the room to stay in the closet and come to terms with himself, with no rush to figure it out before the others found out, because it was all on <em>his terms</em>. </p><p>Lance felt peaceful. </p><p>He took a deep breath, sitting up straight and resting his elbows on the table so it at least looked like he was paying attention. The feeling of safety he felt now made his thoughts bolder, because finally, he could fully allow himself to admit who he was to himself in the comfort of his own head. He could test out his label, see how it progressed in his mind from foreign to natural, if it ever did.</p><p>Bisexual.</p><p>Lance was bisexual.</p><p>It felt… weird. But not necessarily the kind of weird that indicated it didn’t fit. It felt new, most likely, because it was. He’d never allowed himself to apply a concrete label to his identity, had never allowed himself to do more than entertain a suspicion that he might be gay or bi. And now, he was entertaining more than a distant suspicion he could brush off by citing his attraction to women. He was openly acknowledging to himself that he <em>was</em>. He was finally viewing himself as bi, and it was terrifying, but more importantly, Lance felt <em>free</em></p><p>Unfortunately, Lance hadn’t registered ambassador Kran directly talking to him until Hunk carefully nudged his shoulder. “Huh? What?”</p><p>“Paladin, please remove yourself from the chamber if you cannot keep still.” Lance hadn’t even noticed that he’d been bouncing his leg and tapping his hands against his thighs until that moment, stopping mid-motion like Keith caught raiding the fridge at 3am.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Ambassador Kran, please understand that he can’t help it, he has-” Shiro replied calmly, before Lance was able to apologise. </p><p>“He is in full control of his conduct, Ambassador Shirogane,” Kran interrupted curtly, before turning back to Lance, “and he will do better to control his behaviour in the chamber.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Lance mumbled, preparing to apologise just like he was taught to by his teachers, although he found his stomach dropping along with his mood again, could feel tears welling in his eyes. He hated how he felt like this, like he was always messing up, couldn’t understand why it affected him so harshly. “I shouldn’t have been messing around in the meeting, I’ll make more of an effort to focus on the negotiations and not disrupt the ambassadorial teams. I promise to work on my professionalism if you’ll allow me to stay.”</p><p>“Very well,” Kran replied, “but if you shall continue to act like a child, we shall treat you like one-”</p><p>“<em>Hey now, that’s not fair!</em>” </p><p>Everybody turned sharply at the sound of Keith’s chair scraping back. Kran went to interrupt, but Keith continued loudly. “You know nothing about Lance, and it isn’t fair that you decide to treat him like a child because his behaviour doesn’t meet your stupid societal norms! Lance fidgets, it’s as much a part of him as the colour of his hair or his eyes. He doesn’t owe you his discomfort by forcing himself to sit still. He’s already overwhelmed today and I won’t stand for you treating him like a child. Just let him bounce his goddamn leg or whatever it is he feels he needs to do to regulate his brain, or we’re walking out of here and you can forget about the trade deal and shove your balmera crystal trade routes up your-”</p><p>“Keith,” Shiro interrupted quickly.</p><p>“ASS!” Keith shouted anyway, much to Shiro and Allura’s disappointment and everyone else’s amusement.</p><p>“Just what, exactly,” Kran began slowly, seething, “is an ass?”</p><p>Keith opened his mouth to reply, but Pidge jumped out of her seat and began to push Keith out of the door. “NO NO! NO NEED, IT’S UH- LET’S JUST TAKE A RECESS!”</p><p>“Agreed,” Allura replied quickly, “we shall reconvene on the hour. I shall discuss with my team and ensure the rest of the negotiations go smoothly.” Allura walked the team out before the Talustrean ambassadors could call them off, and Lance had two thoughts left rattling around in his skull: If Talustreans didn’t know about asses, did that mean they didn’t have asses? And, more importantly, what made Keith defend Lance? Lance had never had somebody stand up for him like that before. Lance used to stand up for himself, argue back, and it always got him into more trouble. He learned quickly that his voice didn’t matter, that his experiences didn’t matter. He was disruptive, it was all his fault, and he should learn to do better.</p><p>He figured he was in for the lecture of a lifetime when he got back to the castle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is it 4:20am? Yes. Should I be asleep? Also yes. Is my bedtime currently 10am? Apparently so.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Conversations and cocoa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lance discovers that Shiro is secretly hilarious, and learns not to be so harsh on himself</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So hi, I apologise if this chapter (and Shiro's characterisation) is a little here, there, and everywhere, I was pretty distracted when I wrote this one and had a lot of ideas I wanted to get out<br/>TW: Fear of rejection, mention of bullying<br/>CW: There's also a brief church mention but no actual homophobia results from it so I don't really feel I have to warn for that? But I understand religious trauma can be a thing so I felt it appropriate to mention anyway. It's mentioned in relation to Lance being a mischievous child, and there's no indication either way of LGBTQ+ bigotry from the reference *</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance walked with his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets as he headed to the kitchen in the castle. If the trade deal was still on, Lance was sure he was gonna be asked to sit the next round of talks out. Shiro opened the door for him, offering a kind smile, but Lance hesitated. “Come on, fidgety-pants,” Shiro prompted, and there was no malice in his nickname, “I’ll make you alien cocoa and we can talk about what happened back there. You’re not in trouble.” Lance nodded doubtfully, heading in and sitting down on one of the stools of the breakfast bar. He likes the one closest to the fridge, mainly because Hunk had pinned up photographs of the team. Lance’s favourite was the one of Keith in the dark, frozen on top of the kitchen counter, crouched like a gremlin with a pack of space doritos (it was a Haggar snack pack, but <em>still</em>) hanging out of his mouth, eyes wide and honest to god glowing in the dark like some freaky catbat cryptid. It was just so funny, especially hearing how Keith had skittered out of the kitchen at record speed with his arms and mouth full of snacks as soon as Hunk had turned on the light. Shiro, amused upon hearing the news, had gone to Keith’s room the next day to find a stash of stolen snacks in his room. Keith had protested that none of it was true, but he never asked Hunk to take down the picture. Lance suspected he liked it, deep down. Maybe it was because he’d never had friends like this, who liked to keep photographic memories of each other.</p><p>Shiro eventually sat opposite him, handing him a large mug of space cocoa. Lance immediately took a sip. When it burned him, he immediately took another, because apparently, no matter how many times his gums blistered, Lance didn’t learn. “So,” Shiro began, “those Talustreans were stuck-up bastards, huh?” Lance immediately choked.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The Talustrean ambassadors. Bunch of prissy arseholes.”</p><p>Lance was in shock. Shiro didn’t swear like this. Shiro was Space Dad. He was professional. Shiro should be telling him off, not… this. Lance had no words. “...Keith told them to stick their trade deal up their asses.”</p><p>“They’d have to remove their own heads from up there first,” Shiro replied, and Lance choked again. “Between Kran and Slav, I don’t know who I’d like to strangle more.” Lance burst out laughing at Shiro’s sudden savageness. Shiro laughed with him, and suddenly, Lance felt a lot more relaxed and a lot less terrified that he was gonna get yelled at. “I honest to god am <em>so</em> proud of Keith for saying that,” Shiro grinned into his cocoa, “but it wouldn’t be responsible space parenting to tell him that.” Lance snorted, poking at the newly formed burn blisters on his gums from drinking his cocoa too hot.</p><p>“I’m sure Pidge is encouraging him plenty,” Lance replied, and Shiro laughed again.</p><p>“Oh, Keith encourages himself plenty,” Shiro added, “Keith isn’t even remotely sorry for what he said, and if anything, he’s probably mad Pidge escorted him out before he could tell them what asses were-” </p><p>“What if Talustreans don’t have asses?”</p><p>Shiro blinked. And stared. Lance registered late that he’d just interrupted, and awaited the disappointed reminder to control his behaviour. Instead, Shiro’s face cycled through the five stages of grief. “I am officially revoking your speaking privileges,” Shiro joked, “I’m asking Allura to add it to the paladin code:” Shiro switched his voice into an imitation of Allura- “<em> Paladins are henceforth forbidden from speculating on the booty status of alien species</em>” Lance didn’t even try to contain his hysterical laughter, folding himself half over the table to keep himself from falling off. “See,” Shiro smiled, “I do have a sense of humor after all.”</p><p>“So I’m really not in trouble?”</p><p>“For what,” Shiro shrugged as the laughter died down, “your behaviour was just fine.”</p><p>“But… I couldn’t keep still,” Lance protested weakly, “and I fell asleep and interrupted and… yeah… zoned out a lot.”</p><p>“I know,” Shiro replied, “and whilst it would probably help to work on that, it doesn’t necessarily mean you did anything <em>wrong</em>. Just that we need to find ways to help you manage your struggles better so you’re able to focus better during meetings.”</p><p>“What, no <em>’quiet hands’</em> talk?”</p><p>“Nope,” Shiro replied, “there’s no need. If it was genuinely bothering somebody or overwhelming somebody, that would maybe be a little different, but just because you needed to move around a little or spoke at an inopportune moment doesn’t mean you aren’t professional and it <em>especially</em> doesn’t make you childish. They had no right to scold you like a naughty child just because you were struggling to focus very well. If it was genuinely bothering them, they could’ve just asked nicely instead of giving you a hard time for something you struggle to control. As for falling asleep, that’s probably something we need to work on. But you’ve had a difficult day, Lance, so cut yourself some slack. I’m pretty sure we can make an exception for that. Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I scolded you for that. I was in detention all the time for falling asleep in class at the garrison. To be fair, the coffee-induced last minute homework sessions at 5am exhausted me, but I swear coffee actually made me <em>calm</em>-”</p><p>“YES I GET THAT,” Lance yelled suddenly, “I <em>swear</em> coffee relaxes me!”</p><p>“See? You get it!” Shiro huffed a small laugh, then continued, “Have you ever fallen asleep in Iverson’s class? Because I have. When I came back as a teacher, he made a point of reminding me that it would be unprofessional to fall asleep at the desk whilst teaching.”</p><p>“And did you fall asleep?”</p><p>“I fell asleep,” Shiro confirmed, “but in my defence. I stayed up all night because Adam was watching a documentary about whales and I got distracted and forgot to sleep.”</p><p>“You forgot... to <em>sleep</em>?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Shiro replied, “wanna know a secret?” Lance nodded. “The real reason I talk shop with Allura all the time after a mission?” Lance nodded again. Instead of replying verbally, Shiro showed his notes from today’s mission. The first page was neat notes, which slowly descended into illegible writing as the pages went on, until it became complete chaos and doodles and scribbles. </p><p>“Uh…”</p><p>“We have a deal. I teach her Earth customs so she can bond with you guys better, and she lets me copy her notes. Adam would be <em>so</em> disappointed in me.”</p><p>“But- you’re Shiro! You- you can’t be a disaster! You- You’re a <em>hero</em>! You don’t- you- you’re so organised and so regimented!”</p><p>“I learned how to bullshit,” Shiro replied, “convincing, right? Haven’t you noticed how much I bullshit through motivational speeches in Voltron? It’s because I have <em>no fucking clue what I’m doing</em>! So I spew some random speech about teamwork and the power of friendship, and hope to fuck we don’t die this time.”</p><p>“But… You’re Shiro…”</p><p>“Yes,” Shiro replied carefully, “I have to act professional. I have to be a role model and a leader. It’s what I’m trained to do and what I’m supposed to do. But that absolutely doesn’t mean I’m not a disaster gay. So no, I’m not gonna judge you for fidgeting in a meeting when I spent the whole meeting playing wii music in my head-”</p><p>“OH GREAT, NOW IT’S STUCK IN MY HEAD, THANKS SHIRO!”</p><p>“You are <em>very</em> welcome, Lance. May I make it worse with Nyan cat? How about What Does the Fox Say?” </p><p>Lance screeched in response. “I… <em>hate</em> you right now, I hope you know that.” Lance glared, and Shiro laughed softly. Lance pouted and huffed, folding his arms in a mini tantrum.</p><p>“Anyway,” Shiro began as the laughter died down, “what was on your mind earlier during the meeting? You seemed more distracted and distant than usual.”</p><p>“I just… guess I had a lot on my mind,” Lance shrugged, glancing around to the door. What if someone overheard?</p><p>“I asked Allura to rope them into a team meeting whilst I talk to you,” Shiro said, “I’ll make sure you get the notes after but I figured you might not want people to overhear you if it’s to do with what we discussed earlier.”</p><p>Lance nodded gratefully “Kinda,” he replied quietly, “I don’t know. Talking about it and realising how scared I was kind of… drained me, you know. It’s just, so <em>heavy</em>. And I tried my best but, as soon as I walked in, it felt so… imposing. Like, the one time when I was five I put worms in Veronica’s bed but it was a Sunday we had to go to church and suddenly it seemed so big and imposing and I felt like something about it- god or something- knew what I’d done, so I blurted out in the middle of service that I put worms in her bed.” Shiro snorted a small laugh, and Lance decided against overthinking how that same church would feel to him now he knew. “But, uh, this, ambassadorial hall felt like that. So it kinda unnerved me, you know? And then they started talking about trade deals and it got super technical and I’m dumb so I didn’t understand and then I just… yeah.”</p><p>“You’re not dumb,” Shiro said instantly, “most people don’t know about trade deals. None of us really do. Allura only knows about it because she was trained by her father as a diplomat. I sure as hell didn’t know what the Talustreans were talking about. If it still bothers you, you could read up on it, but it’ll probably bore you to death. Don’t beat yourself up over not knowing these things. It’s complicated enough on Earth, experienced diplomats mess up all the time. We didn’t even know aliens existed until Kerberos, and alien diplomacy is way more complicated than Earth alone. So cut yourself some slack, you’re still a cadet and none of you were trained in diplomacy.”</p><p>Lance shrugged, not wanting to unpack all of the memories of Iverson yelling at him in class, calling him dumb, of the way kids he was partnered for in group projects would get frustrated with him and call him less-than-kind words. Lance was always the laughing stock, and being class clown… well, at least they were supposed to laugh if he acted out on purpose, right? “I just need to pay attention more,” Lance mumbled, “it’s my own fault for not trying hard enough.”</p><p>“Lance, you had a pretty tough journey here. You were on the verge of tears for most of the way, then you cried during our conversation. I <em>remember</em> feeling like that, I <em>know</em> how terrifying it is and how completely gutting it feels. You <em>weren’t</em> okay.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lance agreed, staring into his cocoa, “I wasn’t…” <em>I’m not</em>...</p><p>“I get that,” Shiro replied softly, “you have a lot to think about. It’s easy for others to tell us that we shouldn’t worry about our parents rejecting us. That a mother’s love is unconditional and nothing could come between that.”</p><p>“What a lie that can be,” Lance scoffed glumly, and a silence of mutual understanding followed.</p><p>“It’s depressing how intrinsic this experience can be to questioning your sexuality. Having to question if your parents could stop loving you over this. And when personal beliefs overrule a parent’s love for a child, whether that be religious or otherwise… it’s tough. I know you came from a big family, Lance, and I know how much you talk about them and miss them. I can see that you’re scared of finally seeing them again for them to cast you out. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say that won’t happen because it could. But… it might not. Did they ever… give any indications that they might be homophobic? Or did the church you went to say anything about it, good or bad or...?”</p><p>“That’s the thing,” Lance replied, shoulders slumping, “I don’t know. I rarely focused at church and I don’t remember it being brought up during sermons. I don’t remember anyone in the family ever talking about it. Which makes it worse because I’m preparing for a rejection that might not happen. At least if I’d heard somebody say something against it, I could fully prepare, you know? I could start cutting emotional ties so when they found out, I’d know it was goodbye and I’d feel ready for it. But they might still love me and, I can’t let go of them emotionally when I might be accepted into open arms.”</p><p>“When I came out,” Shiro began softly, “I didn’t know either. It never came up, I never asked. So I had no idea if they’d accept me or not. I felt the same as you do right now. So I packed a bag just in case. Adam was already out and he spoke to his sister and she said I could stay with her if my family rejected me. Adam’s family were a bit of a mixed bag of reactions to his coming out. So I packed a bag ready. I… convinced myself that I’d be leaving home. That they’d reject me. And then… I went downstairs as though it was a regular school day, with my clothes and belongings in my backpack, and mom had made breakfast and dad was sat reading the paper and, I told them I wanted them to know something. Mom gave me my breakfast and dad gestured for me to go ahead and speak. So I did.”</p><p>“What happened next?” Lance asked carefully, bouncing his leg nervously. </p><p>“Mom stood there staring at me and I freaked out. I wanted to play it off a prank and just, high tail it out there, but… I was rooted to the spot. Mom then… told me to sit down, so I did, and she sat beside me and told me that she loved me just the same and that she supported me. She admitted she didn’t know much about it, but she’d started to do her research around the time I started puberty because she figured that’s when people probably start questioning who they are. She didn’t know back then if I was gay or not, but she wanted to educate herself so that if I was… she’d be ready to support me. I think I cried at that point and she hugged me and, asked me if I was okay so I told her that it took me a while to accept myself and I was terrified she’d hate me for it, and she told me that she was sorry she didn’t do more to make sure I didn’t have to go through that, and promised to make sure I knew I was always loved, no matter who I was. Whether I was gay or straight, cis or trans, tall or short, anything- she’d love me just the same for it.”</p><p>“What about your dad,” Lance asked carefully, and Shiro smiled softly.</p><p>“He waited until mom had stopped talking then asked me to come sit by him. So I did, and he put his arm around my shoulders and said that he supported me. And that if ever I had a boyfriend whose dad rejected him, that I was to tell my boyfriend to talk to him, and my dad would do all the things with my boyfriend that a father should do with his son. That he wouldn’t let me or any future boyfriends miss out on that experience of having an accepting father figure in his life. Adam’s dad hadn’t accepted him, so… my dad accepted Adam instead. I hope when me and Adam broke up, he stayed in touch with my dad…. So yeah. My parents accepted me. My aunts and uncles not so much, but mom and dad always had my back.</p><p>“My next birthday after that, my mom brought me so much rainbow merch it <em>hurt</em> and my dad got me rainbow socks and everything. It was cheesy and awkward, but it was a gesture of love and acceptance. They got me extra presents that year to make up for the missing presents from my aunts and uncles.”</p><p>“That’s… I’m happy for you, Shiro,” Lance replied honestly, “Your parents sound like great people.”</p><p>“They were,” Shiro smiled softly, “and whilst not everybody in my family was great about it, my parents had my back.”</p><p>“I have nieces and nephews,” Lance began, “and I’m terrified that if my brother doesn’t accept me, then I’ll never see ‘em again. They’re only kids, and, I wanna be there for ‘em, you know? I wanna sit with them and get the glues and paints out and help them make a mess, I wanna run around with them and, take them to the park and use them as an excuse to run around climbing on everything. I wanna be fun uncle Lance, you know? I wanna take them to the aquarium and show them the sharks and, I want to see their faces the first time they see a shark swim over their heads and how thrilling that is, and I wanna tell them about the mermaids and sit them in my lap whilst I tell them about how I got kissed by a mermaid once. I wanna pretend to be a space pirate with them and pick them up and run around the room with them and… take them swimming and play jousting with the pool noodles… I wanna take them to Varadero and nag them about suncream and watch them run off into the ocean and start a splash war and… I wanna <em>be there</em>...” </p><p>“You say that now,” Shiro joked, “but wait until they’re moody teenagers. Keith was a <em>nightmare</em>.”</p><p>“Oh god, now I have to know,” Lance’s mood immediately improved, sitting up and leaning forwards to pay attention. Shiro laughed softly, and continued. </p><p>“Slamming doors, blasting MCR, stealing my car- <em>again</em>- and having to be bailed out of jail <em>again</em>. Getting into fights at school, refusing to do his chores… oh god, I had to rugby tackle him to brush his hair,” Shiro snorted, “that was a joke, by the way, but he hated brushing his hair.”</p><p>“Oh god,” Lance laughed, “he hasn’t changed!”</p><p>“Not one bit,” Shiro replied fondly whilst Lance imagined teenaged Keith throwing a strop whilst wearing an MCR shirt with the classic emo fringe.</p><p>“I was <em>so</em> awkward as a teen,” Lance began, “like, I had one of those diaries that locks with a password, you know the ones? And I just used to drone on and on about pretty girls and how annoying boys in my class were and Veronica guessed my password and teased me about it relentlessly. I used to be really short and goofy as a kid, then I had a sudden growth spurt and I was so awkward with all the extra limb that I was constantly tripping over myself and then the acne came in with a vengeance and oh man, it took me three years to find a way to keep it at bay after so many medications from the doctor. And when I discovered feelings for girls, well, I flirted my way around school and decided to shoot my shot with the older girls. I wasn’t very successful, but man, what was I thinking? Oh god, and then my voice broke and I swear to god I was <em>so</em> squeaky Marco compared my voice to a dog’s chew toy so I told him his voice sounded like somebody farting down a tuba and I got grounded for a week which was <em>totally unreasonable</em>!”</p><p>“Sounds like you have quite a few good memories with your family,” Shiro commented, and Lance nodded, nerves creeping back in. </p><p>“Yeah… and I don’t wanna lose that… it’s why it scares me so much, you know? I didn’t have a bad childhood, and, I don’t want… all of those happy memories to just- be forever tainted because I fell in love with a man, or something.”</p><p>“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Shiro replied sincerely, and this time the silence lingered for a lot longer.</p><p>“I think I’m really not straight, Shiro,” Lance admitted, “I don’t- I don’t think I’m just questioning anymore. I think I’m actually… that I’m actually into dudes and it’s here to stay.”</p><p>“I’m proud of you,” Shiro replied softly and Lance gave an awkward half-smile.</p><p>“I just… feel so lost, right now. I know I’m not straight, but… that doesn’t automatically give me the right to just- steal a label from the gay community and start parading around like I’m a part of it.” Shiro looked at Lance like he was stupid. “I- I mean, I’ve never kissed a guy before,” Lance continued to ramble, “I’ve only ever dated women and, I’m not like- fully gay, and I haven’t been to a gay bar or had a guy hit on me or take me home and I’ve never, like, been initiated into the community or-”</p><p>“Let me just stop you there,” Shiro interrupted carefully, “I’m glad you’re opening up to me and I don’t want you to stop voicing these fears to me, but I need you to understand something first.” Lance gulped and nodded, an irrational part of him waiting for Shiro to tell him he was an impostor, that he was just straight and he should stop trying to butt in where he didn’t belong. “You don’t need any of that to be LGBTQ+. You like men, that’s literally enough. And so what if you’ve only dated women? It doesn’t mean you don’t like men. You know the B and the Q and the plus? Yeah? They’re a part of the community, Lance. There isn’t an initiation. You just need to <em>not</em> be a cishet. Lance, you literally like men. You’re a man who likes men. That’s literally all you need. There isn’t an initiation, you already <em>are</em> LGBTQ+. And if down the line you found out you weren’t then you’ll have learned how to be a better ally in the process. But from everything you’ve said, I’m pretty certain you’re a part of the community, Lance. There isn’t some strict set of requirements. This isn’t an exam, there isn’t some test you have to sit to prove your gayness. You say you like men, and I believe you. I believe you belong in our community.”</p><p>Lance blinked and stared. In his head, he’d spent so long going back and fourth over whether he was queer enough to be a part of the community, that he’d overcomplicated it massively. He was a guy who liked guys, he was pretty sure he was the B in LGBTQ+. Lance was mentally facepalming, but he still felt an odd sense of nerves. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready yet. Maybe he wanted to test out the label a little more before acknowledging and confirming that he belonged in the community. But it reassured him that he didn’t have to rush to give up his first male kiss to a man he’d probably never see again on some random mission before he could consider himself as fully bi: He didn’t have to get experience with guys first or do anything scary he wasn’t ready for; he just had to be not allocishet, which he was pretty sure he was.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks, Shiro,” Lance replied numbly, “I think I need to go lie down…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I usually enjoy writing Shiro's POV but I struggled so much with it this time ajdkfh</p><p>*I'll likely keep it that way, because some lgbtq+ people are religious and some aren't and whilst I don't see Lance as religious, I feel you guys can like- project whichever version you need to onto whether the church was accepting or not based on your own comfort levels. I probably won't go into much detail in this fic about religion, because it's a complicated minefield, and for some people, it'll remind them of bigotry they faced from religion, and for those who are religious and lgbtq+, it might be disheartening to see a negative portrayal. So I'd like to leave it up to the reader to imagine it whichever way brings them the most comfort, or is most similar to their personal links to religion. I hope this is okay! I myself was raised Church of England but now I do witchcraft instead lol (the good kind, dw) so I get it's complicated, but I don't feel like discussing the nuances of religion in this fic too much. I may mention it a little at some point in a little more detail, but I'll still keep Lance's old church and his general relationship with it a neutral one. If I do mention it in this fic, it'll more be a discussion of how some people face bigotry and some are embraced, and how the potential bigotry can be quite daunting and real (with obligatory Take Me To Church reference), but unconditional acceptance is something others experience, and some find great comfort and pride in their faith, and both experiences are just as valid. I won't detail any verses or translation discourse, or give Lance any negative experiences with the Church though. He's just kinda gonna be at peace about it. Also there's loads of fics out there about reconciling faith and sexuality and/or gender that can probably do a better job than I could. I've read some brilliant ones with (positively portrayed) religious lgbtq+ Lance and some equally brilliant ones where he faces bigotry from it, and honestly, I wish I could remember the fics rn aksgdk<br/>My own relationship with religion is complicated because I don't have a good relationship with it for myself because of some of the bigotry I've faced -_-, but my own negative experiences aside, and regardless of how completely angry I am (and vocal I can be) about that bigoted bullshit- I used to- and still do- love talking to my friends about their positive experiences with faith. It might not be for me, but it's very important to my friends, so it's important to me too. So I personally found a way to reconcile the hurt I endured with the joy my peers get from their experiences, and honestly, I'm at peace with things, aside from the bigotry. And I like to think Lance would be at peace with religion regardless of if he had a good experience with it or a shitty one. Some people are lucky to be accepted, some get persecuted, so honestly, it's just... such a deeply personal thing. Religious experience is not and never will be ubiquitous, and there's just so many nuances and perspectives and narratives that I just feel it's too complicated to fully encompass all of that in this fic and do it justice. And like said, because that experience is so diverse, I'm giving the reader the opportunity to project their own experiences when they read between the lines, whether they be positive or negative or otherwise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Not himself (a mask for the spectators)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keith reflects on Lance's unusual behaviours</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally we get Keith's POV again! Keith may have the social skills of a spoon, but he's nothing if not observant. Even if nobody else is</p><p>I don't think there's any TWs for this chapter?? It mostly mentions suppression and discipline/respect at school and how that affects Lance. There's mentions of Keith gettinf rejected/bouncing from foster home to foster home, but nothing particularly heavy or anything</p><p>Also hi, I posted before 10am for once!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith didn’t know what was wrong with Lance.</p><p>He’d tried to figure it out, but nothing he thought of seemed to make sense. He knew he was missing something important, and he found himself laying on his back trying to go through everything in his head in the hope the pieces would fit and he’d figure it out.</p><p>He was late to breakfast, but Lance was even later, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months, although he’d gone to bed early, so Keith figured he’d overslept. It looked like he’d completely skipped his morning routine again, hair sticking up in greasy strands and skin a mix of dry and flakey and oily. His acne looked almost painful, red and irritated all over his cheeks. He’d picked at them, Keith concluded. Lance sat down without looking up at everyone, without cracking a joke or flirting with Allura again. Shiro squeezed his shoulder as he walked past, and Keith’s anxiety eased slightly knowing that Lance likely confided in Shiro.</p><p>Keith frowned, picking up his fork and starting on his cereal. He didn’t feel hungry, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean that he <em>wasn’t</em>. The cereal was mostly bland, but it was almost familiar. It was one of the few foods on the castleship that had a reasonably tolerable texture and taste, that didn’t make him cringe and want to scrape his tongue off until it went away. He’d figured Lance would’ve appreciated it too the day he gave Lance his, and Shiro reported that Lance had finished the cereal off. </p><p>Lance wasn’t looking after himself. And whilst Keith wasn’t the best at looking after people, he wanted to at the very least make sure Lance was okay. Whatever he was dealing with was probably pretty heavy. Lance had mentioned before that his acne was usually worse when he was stressed, and if he hadn’t broke out when he first blasted off into space, Keith couldn’t even imagine how much stress he must be going through right now. For Lance to stop his skincare and fall asleep in the middle of important meetings- well, something was definitely wrong, and Keith wished he knew what. The guy was clearly going through a tough time, and Lance thrived off social interaction. He <em>needed</em> people. Lance couldn’t be content in his own space, with his own company. He needed validation and care from others, needed to talk to people to gain his smile back. </p><p>Keith wanted friends, real friends. But Keith could cope on his own. Keith was happy to sit with his music on or draw the day away, but Lance? Lance couldn’t bear the silence. He had to fill it with something, had to get the conversation going with the most random thoughts that popped into his head and start a loud, heated debate on why beans and cheese on toast counted as a pizza whilst Hunk and Pidge yelled back that it <em>wasn’t</em>, thank you very much.</p><p>Keith rather liked those moments, sitting around them and listening to the chaos, knowing that even if they didn’t talk to him, they weren’t annoyed at his presence. He liked hanging out with his friends, even if sometimes he craved what Lance had. Lance’s complete lack of volume control or filter during those heated debates was the best, because it was Lance at his most candid. When he started yelling and waving his arms around, completely unaware of just how loud he was being, completely caught up in the passion of debate- yeah, that was the Lance Keith liked to remember. The Lance who let his guard down. The Lance who, in those moments, wasn’t hiding.</p><p>Because Lance had gotten good at hiding. Keith had seen it at the negotiations- how completely different his behaviour was to what it would’ve been around the team alone. If that had been a team meeting, he would’ve ended up swinging on his chair and groaning in boredom and bouncing his pen up and down so it looked like it was bendy. Allura would remind him to please pay attention, and Lance would loudly state that he was bored and hungry. Keith preferred Lance at his most candid. He didn’t like seeing Lance hiding that, even when social convention dictates he should. Because maybe it had started with being quiet in the classroom, not drumming his equipment on the edges of the table- but it bled into almost every aspect of Lance. It might have started off with necessary adjustments to Lance’s behaviour, but it didn’t stop there.</p><p>Keith could tell that Lance was used to suppressing himself. He was used to carefully monitoring his tone, used to counting the seconds in his head before he spoke to make sure he didn’t accidentally speak at the wrong time, learned to note stuff down when he had something to say or decided it best not to speak at all. Silence is golden, and good children are seen and not heard. He could see when Lance’s composure would sag, when his mask would drop slightly, and Keith could pinpoint the exact moments when he put it straight back up. Presentable, respectable Lance was an act, and Lance was the sole actor. </p><p>The negotiations were a day where Lance had struggled to maintain the mask, and had struggled to regulate his own needs. It was clear he needed time to recover after freaking out at the festival- he probably still did, although Keith wondered if he was already struggling before then. </p><p>But other days? Other days, Lance was the poster boy of diplomacy. Nodding at the right times, smooth-talking the right people, standing or sitting like you were taught to in school, completely still, with a soft smile on his face, hand movements limited and stunted, clasping them together on top of the table. But Keith saw when the mask would slip. Keith noticed when Lance would start shifting in his seat or start fiddling with his sleeves, or when he’d sigh more, eyes going glassy and words turning into well-timed nods before snapping himself back into his rigidly professional persona. Keith could see how it exhausted him to keep it up. Once they were out of whatever talks they were, Lance would groan loudly and run his hands over his face. He’d throw himself onto the couches in the castle and sprawl out, leg over the top of the couch and arms dramatically moving as he ranted about how boring the meeting was. Everybody would sit down and grumble in agreement, and Lance would lay there complaining. </p><p>Keith noticed it when they were waiting for training. Everybody would be standing around, maybe stretching, and Lance would be boredly sprawled out, kicking his legs in the air like a tortoise that got flipped over. If he was really bored, he’d kick the wall, and wouldn’t stop unless he was asked to, at which point he’d start pacing and swinging his arms or spinning around. It’s what gave Keith the inspiration to try it himself, and wow, it really felt good to do that. Eventually, training would roll around. Some days, Lance would be so focused it was scary. Keith remembers watching Lance get hit by the gladiator and continue training for another three hours. He hadn’t even sipped his water, waved off the team when they were inviting him for a break because he was just so close to the next level, <em>’just one more level, five minutes, tops’</em>, until Shiro was cutting in and ending the training sequence. Lance would insist he was fine, but Shiro would remind him of the time and ask him if he’d had any water, and Lance would’ve forgotten. The exhaustion would hit him quickly after that, and he’d realise how hungry and tired he was. </p><p>Other times, Lance would start training and he’d be struggling to keep up. He’d focus on one target and miss another, or he’d get distracted by one of Keith’s jibes. Keith had reminded him to concentrate on their first day of training, and instead of Lance concentrating, he got distracted insisting that he wasn’t the one who needed to focus and Keith got sucked into the floor of the training deck. It wasn’t a fun experience. Sometimes, Lance would get bored of whatever equipment he was using and pick up another, or start a conversation with Pidge or Hunk until Allura reminded him that he was supposed to be training. Those days, Lance usually ended up being scolded for his poor performance, and he’d be silent for the rest of the day, or he’d blame Keith for something and they’d argue and Lance would spend the day loudly complaining.</p><p>So Keith liked it when Lance was passionately debating with his friends over something stupidly trivial. Because Lance didn’t try to hide his natural behaviour. He didn’t monitor his tone or stop himself from yelling out something random. He didn’t stop himself from waving his arms around or bouncing up out of his seat and changing position every five seconds. He <em>smiled</em>, a big, toothy smile, and he’d laugh obnoxiously at the stupidest, most juvenile jokes. He’d flash finger guns and suddenly interrupt with another random thought that everybody would suddenly start to yell about. Lance wouldn’t hide his emotions, even when that emotion switched to outrage at something Keith was supposed to have done or said wrong. Even when that emotion became boredom and Lance would literally poke people in the side to tell them he was bored and everything they suggested would be something he couldn’t be bothered to do. Even when it was overwhelming, or even when Lance perhaps did cross the line into rude and inconsiderate with his interruptions, even when Lance perhaps should’ve made the effort to regulate his behaviour a little better- Keith preferred it because Lance looked <em>alive</em>. </p><p>Recently, Lance had been withdrawn. He’d been quiet and muted, toned down. Keith could see the way he’d stop himself from speaking or moving, how he’d cycle through training on autopilot. The apologies Keith could recite without fail, because they were practiced from slips you were given in school. <em> ‘I’m sorry that I ___. I should have ___. To ensure this doesn’t happen again, I will ___. To show that I’m sorry, I will ___.’ </em> Apologies from Lance were like that. Rehearsed. What people wanted to hear. Promises to do better, followed by more suppression. The most candid apology had been the one he made to Keith, one that wasn’t scripted and expected of him. One that wasn’t from societal obligation. One that wasn’t Lance apologising for who he was, in some way.</p><p>Right now, Lance had his hands wedged between his thighs, none of his usual energetic hand gestures in sight. He was practically a shell of himself. He was the perfect example of the well-behaved child everybody wanted to see. He didn’t fidget, didn’t make smiley faces in his food goo, didn’t talk too loud, and only spoke when spoken to. Keith found it sad that good children were supposed to be obedient shells, and not vibrant and energetic. Lance wasn’t a child, but he was acting like children were taught to act in order to be respected. Respect has to be earned. </p><p>Keith hated that. It literally would cost people nothing to respect others. They demanded immediate respect merely for the fact they were in charge, and felt it perfectly okay to disrespect others and make them meet stupid requirements to earn even a sliver of respect. But why would anyone want to respect somebody who demanded respect and didn’t give it back? Why was respect a reward instead of a standard? Why did people like Lance have to learn to suppress themselves until they lost themselves and broke apart? Why did people like Keith get sent to bed without dinner just because he wouldn’t take his gloves off at the dinner table? <em>don’t be rude, Keith.</em> What was so rude about pieces of fabric covering his hands? If people would withhold respect because of a pair of gloves, or a too-energetic conversation, how much respect would they withhold for your identity? Your bodily autonomy? Keith didn’t respect people who didn’t show him respect. People who wanted you to earn their respect were like ringmasters expecting their inferiors to do tricks for rewards. Lance had been taught respect. He’d had to earn it. Keith knew he had; at the garrison definitely, but Keith could see it clear as day in how freakishly natural Lance’s fakery looked. Quiet Lance who only spoke when spoken to and kept his hands still wasn’t real Lance. People were so used to being treated like an authority figure, they confused it for respect, and if you didn’t treat them like an authority figure, they didn’t treat you like a human.</p><p>Lance was so painfully repressed that Keith wondered just how much he was repressing. Keith himself was a master at repression; he’d had to be to survive. Schools and Keith weren’t friends when Keith was growing up, so he learned how to behave and act the way everybody else was supposed to. And then his dad kicked the bucket and Keith was alone. Maybe he was surrounded by people at the home, but they weren’t his allies. They never asked him why he lashed out in anger, why he refused to take his gloves off, why he didn’t talk much. They just expected him to meet their standards, to integrate with the other children when some of those children mocked him for his natural behaviour and mannerisms. Keith didn’t. He was never able to be the perfect kid, and that meant that Keith got used to rejection. </p><p>Being passed from foster home to foster home, being rejected over stupid things that blew up into stupid rows, winding up back at the home so often they didn’t bother to give his room to any newbies because they knew he’d be back. Sometimes Keith actually lasted past a week before waking up to his bags packed, or to his hosts sitting at the dinner table avoiding eye contact and saying they needed to talk. That Keith just didn’t fit. That he was too hard to handle. Hard to fall in love with. And Keith had gone off the rails. Rejection was all he knew. If he was in trouble every day anyway, he might as well live the way he wanted. Small things at first, like black nail varnish to school, up to stealing the cars of the staff at night and leaving them wherever he wrecked them and dragging himself back to his room to care for the bruises himself. </p><p>Keith had been so angry, and he’d turned it on himself for not being perfect. It was only when Shiro bailed him out of jail that Keith began to realise rejection wasn’t the only thing made for him. And Keith hadn’t believed it at first; why would he be forgiven? Why wasn’t he being yelled at when he resisted Shiro’s advice at every turn?</p><p>Keith began to realise that Shiro didn’t expect him to be perfect. Shiro wasn’t expecting Keith to conform. He wasn’t berating Keith for his trauma. When Shiro asked Keith about his gloves, he never asked Keith to take them off at the dinner table- just that Keith wash them more often. He never berated Keith for his silence or his screaming: Shiro offered compassion. And Keith stopped suppressing. He noticed how hard he found it to behave candidly instead of how he was expected to behave. He realised how much of himself he’d lost and hid. He realised he didn’t even know if his interests were his or what people expected and wanted him to like. It took Keith a long time to learn how to stop suppressing himself, although the emotional repression never truly ended- being vulnerable never felt like an option when vulnerability had gotten him hurt.</p><p>So Keith learned how to accept himself, because if nobody else but Shiro was going to, Keith would have to be his own ally. He soon realised he didn’t owe himself to anyone who would ask him to change who he was or how he felt. He didn’t owe anyone a haircut or bare hands or heterosexuality or rigid masculinity standards. He didn’t owe his silence or his words- they were his choices to make. He didn’t owe an explanation for who he was, and he didn’t owe anyone his pain for their comfort.</p><p>When Keith was realising his sexuality, he was already deep into his self-acceptance journey. He didn’t agonise over it like he might have done just a few years earlier. He didn’t bury it, or wait to see if it went away. He noticed himself thinking boys were cute, finding himself daydreaming about boys in a way other boys daydreamed about girls. He sat himself down and asked himself if he’d kiss dudes and if he even wanted to date women. He asked himself who he could see himself being in love with and being comfortable loving. And that was it. His whole journey of realising he was gay and accepting himself had been <em> ‘oh, boys are cute,’ ‘wait, that makes me gay’... ‘OK, guess I’m gay now, cool, wonder if I’ll ever get to kiss a dude’ </em> </p><p>Keith acknowledged he was into dudes within a few minutes of realising he was drawn to men and told Shiro the next day: <em> ‘Shiro. I’m gay. I wanna kiss dudes.’</em></p><p><em> ‘Cool,’</em>, Shiro had replied, <em> ‘welcome to the club.’</em></p><p>Acceptance.</p><p>Keith didn’t have to explain himself to Shiro. He didn’t have to prove anything. And if Shiro could believe him without question, then why did he owe anyone else an explanation of himself? Why did he have to be a walking dictionary to people who were just sealioning or trolling? If somebody couldn’t accept Keith as easily as Keith had accepted himself, then Keith didn’t owe them anything. He didn’t have to compromise all that he’d worked towards in being okay with being Keith just to baby other people through accepting his sexuality when it literally had nothing to do with them anyway. Keith didn’t need to please people who would never be pleased with who he was.</p><p>So Keith thought, in a way, he maybe understood what Lance was going through. Lance probably wasn’t questioning his sexuality, and perhaps Lance had grown up in a big, loving family. But Lance had started to suppress himself like Keith had. Lance’s radical self-acceptance of who he was seemed to have faded. It was like Lance had lost his sense of self through all the masks he put up. What was he trying to hide? What made him suppress everything? Why was he a shell of the Lance Keith knew? The Lance who knew who he was? </p><p>Keith knew rationally that Lance was deeply insecure, always had been. His relationships had all crashed and burned, Shiro’s clone had chipped away at his confidence, and Lance had felt useless and othered. But this? This was different, somehow. That sad Lance could bounce back to who he was if you believed in him. This Lance wasn’t bouncing back. Keith remembered how Lance’s loud persona had become a mask for insecurities, and Keith had watched Lance reclaim all of it as a natural part of himself that he needn’t be ashamed of. </p><p>But since everything was supposed to be over, since they all blasted off into space again to help rebuild the places destroyed, Lance had been oddly distant and quiet. It was like the suppression was no longer a subconscious defence mechanism he could be snapped out of, but it was something Lance had been actively doing. He looked like a man at war with himself, and Keith didn’t want Lance to go through the rough time accepting himself that Keith once had.</p><p>Keith abruptly left the dining hall, rushing down to the training deck. He needed to get rid of the uncomfortable energy building up inside him, and letting it explode out was the best way to do that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...<br/>Keith is perhaps a little oblivious. Like, he had the answer, right there in his hands. And he was just like. <em>nah. probably not.</em> *facepalm* smh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Who the fuck has a favourite type of battery? (Pidge, apparently-_-)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance has been trialling labels like it's a Netflix free trial and feels robbed of being a baby gay, and Pidge drops a massive bombshell (again)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So hi!! If it interests you, I'm way ahead of schedule on writing this, so updates are good for the next at least month rn and I'll defo get ahead again (I can usually write a chapter in a day or two, sometimes two or three chapters a day if I'm feeling especially productive and procrastinating something, like writing poetry for an application form-_-)</p><p>I don't think there's any TWs in particular for this chapter, so enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance had been having a crisis ever since his last talk with Shiro. It had been weird anyways that Lance hadn’t been yelled at for how he behaved during the Talustrean negotiations, so Lance had already been thrown off balance by that, but then Shiro had told him there were no magical requirements for being LGBTQ+ apart from actually believing you fit under one of the identities? Wack. Did that make Lance bi? Did being bi make him… well, bi? Could he really just see himself as bi?</p><p>He’d spent the past week or so after the Talustrean negotiations and after the talk with Shiro allowing himself to try out the bi label, and so far, Lance hadn’t felt as though it was too foreign and out there. Sure, it felt weird to put a label to it all, but the label didn’t really feel <em>wrong</em>. It was as simple as saying the blue lion was blue. Sure, it was life-changing to find a giant blue lion, but labelling it as a blue lion was just stating the obvious. Calling it anything else wouldn’t stop it from being a giant blue lion, but acknowledging and labelling it as a giant blue lion sure made it easier to process. </p><p>Lance’s bi-ness was a trial period right now. Or- at least, the <em>label</em> had been. And so far, Lance was feeling like he might end up paying for the subscription. At least with Netflix you could cancel your subscription, but what was Lance supposed to do? <em> ‘hey, gay fairygodmother, I decided to be hetero, can you rescind my bi card now?’ </em> Lance scoffed a laugh at the absurdity. His sexuality wasn’t going to go away, and after a week of letting himself try out a label, well: Lance didn’t think he wanted it to. </p><p>Sure, it was a really freaky experience to go your whole life thinking you know yourself and to finally accept yourself for your sexuality to start banging on the closet door and flip your perspective of who you were completely upside down, but that was just a Lance problem. He was so sure of himself that finding out he really didn’t know who he was had thrown him a curveball that he hadn’t been prepared for. It hit him right in the face full-force, unavoidable, and the existential crisis Lance had been stuck with just wasn’t going to go away until Lance fully acknowledged what was going on with his mind. </p><p>He’d been so sure that he knew the real Lance McClain, the cishet ally who was enthusiastically supportive and felt a weird kinship with this community he wasn’t a part of, but then suddenly his sexuality came to light. Everything Lance knew about himself crumbled. His heterosexuality, may it rest in pieces, had been so fragile it could only have been a fantasy. In the aftermath of a war, Lance was kissing his heterosexuality goodbye, and whilst he had no issues with the idea of being bisexual, it was a lot to process. He’d been so sure that he knew himself that to find out he never really knew himself at all was intense and terrifying. It was isolating, and Lance felt lost. How much more of his life was a lie? </p><p>Boys liked girls, so when Lance liked girls, he didn’t consider he liked other genders, because it simply wasn’t a question that boys who liked girls needed to ask themselves. Society masqueraded as binary, male and female, one or the other. Opposites attract, and nothing is grey. Lance’s world had been black and white stripes, monochrome and mainstream, and now it was exploding in pink, purple, and blue, and the black and white lines were blurred and grey. Life wasn’t binary, and boys didn’t always just like girls. People weren’t always binary, sexuality wasn’t always binary, identity wasn’t always binary. Life wasn’t just heterosexual. Life wasn’t always a wife and two kids and a white picket fence. Sometimes life was the incomparable urge to kiss a guy because you were a guy who liked guys and guys were fucking <em> hot </em>.</p><p>Lance had believed everything that society told him he would grow up to be, so when he found himself to be different, his entire sense of self had crumbled, because it felt like so much of it had been one, big lie he was fed about himself and Lance was angry. He was angry that society had robbed him of his identity for so long. He was angry that nobody had considered that Lance didn’t have to be straight. That straight didn’t have to be the default. He was angry that he’d grown up being told he’d find a good woman to settle down with one day, and that nobody had told him that he might find a man or enby or nobody or multiple people. Nobody had told him that he might not have been born allo or cis or het, because they just assumed he’d grow up to be a cis boy attracted to women and women exclusively. Nobody had given Lance possibilities of who he could be, and now Lance was having to give himself those options after seeing them so closed off from him for so long. The binary sucked, heteronormativity sucked, society sucked, and Lance was frustrated.</p><p>He felt like he’d been robbed. He never got to be a baby gay, aged 13 with 20 different pride pins on his backpack and funky dyed hair because he’d just discovered he was queer and he wanted the world to know. He was robbed of that young experience of self-exploration and unapologetic cringe. He wanted to have that phase. Wanted to be that over-excited baby gay. He wanted that <em> freedom </em>. But he was an adult now, drifting in the middle of nowhere, where time and space were irrelevant and only seven other people could hear him scream. Where the variety of norms on Earth weren’t the norms of everywhere, where war had touched every last scrap of vitality left in people and left everybody a shell of themselves. He had to be sensible and serious, had to handle things like a mature adult even if he just wanted to be that little kid again. He was constrained by the expectations of being a child soldier that grew up into a seasoned veteran. He didn’t get to be young again, because it had been stolen from him. He mourned the Lance he never got to be, mourned the baby gay he should’ve been, new to the community and unafraid and unashamed to try out every label under the sun without the pressure to be right and be presentable to others. He wanted that back, but he’d never had it in the first place.</p><p>So it was hard for Lance to question himself. Because the more he became comfortable with who he was, the more he realised how much he’d missed out on. All those teenage years where he could’ve allowed himself to daydream about boys and dream about being kissed by boys. All those trips out of the garrison where he could’ve also looked for cute guys and cute non-binary people, because women weren’t the only option. All those teenage years of exploring his identity and finding out where he fit in such a binary world. All the people and accounts he could’ve followed online who could’ve taught him how to accept himself before he came out loud and proud. All the boys in school he could’ve flirted with, all the late night pillow talk sessions with Hunk where Lance could’ve talked about his sexuality instead of being blinded to his own reality. All the pins and flags and merch he could’ve brought himself, all the books he would’ve checked out of the library and carried around so people would see he was reading some seriously gay shit. All the witty comebacks he’d have come up with if someone gave him trouble. All the people he could’ve confided in. All the openly gay kids at school he wished he’d talked to more and befriended. The community he never got to meet. Lance felt robbed of so many important milestones, and now he didn’t know how to reclaim himself and discover who he really was, be who he really is.</p><p>His alarm buzzed for lunch, and Lance realised he’d have to assess his identity and his connection to the bi label a little later. He wanted to at least try to be mentally present this time, wanted to hold conversations and feel connected to his friends again.</p><p>He was almost the last to lunch, bar Pidge, who was likely waiting for an important piece of tech to download or update. Hunk had managed to make a new dish, which Lance eyed with suspicion because whilst he’d never had any issues with allergies other than hayfever and dust back on Earth, it turned out a lot of tasty alien dishes seemed to make his immune system go nuts. There were not-Turkey dinosaur nuggets for Keith, with the closest thing to ketchup that Hunk could make and fries of some kind, and food goo just in case the meal didn’t work out for someone. Shiro was nearly falling asleep at the table, Coran was excitedly detailing his time on Thraxis, Allura was waiting patiently and giggling softly with the space mice, Romelle was playing with her cutlery, and Keith was still out of breath and sweaty from training. His unfairly fluffy mullet was clinging to the back of his neck and his forehead, and his already tight shirt was clinging to him even closer-</p><p>“What?” Lance panicked immediately at the sudden realisation Keith had caught him staring.</p><p>“Nothing!! Nothing! No no, just, um- your hair is dumb!”</p><p>“Your face is dumb,” Keith replied with a scowl, and what was Lance supposed to do, let Keith win?</p><p>“Not as dumb as yours!”</p><p>“At least I-”</p><p>“Boys!” Shiro interrupted sternly, levelling them both with tired glares. Keith huffed and folded his arms, and Lance slouched in his seat. Sure, he’d been entirely responsible for that, but he was still mad about it.</p><p>Pidge finally came in, and Hunk began to dish the food up as she sat down. She seemed nervous and distracted, so Lance made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her and check that she was okay. Maybe he could talk to Hunk about looking out for her, because Pidge seemed closer to him anyway. Casual conversation never really picked up, although Lance supposed he had to take responsibility for that. He was usually the one who started conversations, so it made sense that there would be less talking and bonding now.</p><p>Lance decided to brave the new food, sniffing it first and poking it to make sure the texture didn’t seem gross. It seemed okay, so Lance decided to try some of the probably-meat first, pleased to find it had a natural spice to it. Potential allergies be damned, if Lance died eating his best buddy’s cooking, then that’s just how it would have to be. Lance was definitely gonna sneak into the kitchens and eat the leftovers later, although he’d just have to take the risk of Hunk catching him red-handed when Lance was stuffing a plate of spicy meat in the not-microwave whilst in his underwear and a blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape.</p><p>“Hey, um, guys, I kind of have something uh, important that I want you to know.” Lance looked up to Pidge, who pushed her glasses up her face and kept her eyes trained resolutely to the table whilst everybody looked over at her.</p><p>“Is everything okay,” Shiro asked gently, and Pidge nodded quickly. </p><p>“So um. Remember when I said I was a girl? Yeah, well I um. Turns out I’m not a girl. Basically um- so you all know I pretended to be a boy to sneak into the garrison, right? Well I hated every minute of it, because- well, I was pretending to be something I’m not and the boy’s locker room stunk of asscrack and axe body spray- no offence, but being a boy sucks. So obviously I was uncomfortable, so I eventually told you guys the truth- or well, at least what I <em> thought </em> was the truth at the time but that’s besides the point, the point is that, er, after I told everyone I was a girl, I kind of felt like I was lying to you all over again. And I felt just as uncomfortable with everyone seeing me as a girl as I did being seen as a boy. So I did a lot of thinking about gender and stuff and, well, I’m not a girl or a boy. Neither binary option feels <em> right </em>, you know? Well, I’m guessing you don’t, but I guess I can’t really assume, but my point is- I’m not a girl. I’m agender non-binary, and, I want you all to know that my pronouns are they/them, and I still go by Pidge but I want to go by Pidge full-time and disconnect from my deadname. So… yeah. Oh, also I’m aroace, so I’m officially triple A, which, ironically, is my favourite type of battery-”</p><p>“You have a favourite type of battery?”</p><p>“Yes, Lance, I have a favourite type of battery. I’m weird, you know this by now.” Pidge half-glared at him, and Lance internally cringed at how much he’d derailed their coming out. “Anyway,” they continued, “I know I’m still young and all, but, <em> I know myself </em>. I know myself and I know who I am and I don’t fit into any kind of binary. I’m not sure if I’m just aroace or if I’m oriented aroace, maybe girls if I am, but that’s for future Pidge to figure out, because I’m not ready to explore that until I feel ready to date, which, I don’t feel ready for until I’ve gotten a stable career and finished my education. But either way, I’m definitely aroace, and I’m definitely non-binary. And I know you all adjusted to calling me she/her relatively quickly when I revealed that I wasn’t a boy, so I’m hoping you’ll be able to adjust to using they/them for me, but I get it may take a little while to get used to, you know? But as long as you all try, I’m not gonna be upset if you struggle. So yeah, that’s me coming out to you.”</p><p>“Coming out like that was pretty <em> ace </em> of you to do,” Keith replied, a small smirk on his lips, because of course he had to make a pun about it before Lance could.</p><p>“Bruh,” Pidge grinned, “did you just make an ace pun?” Keith nodded, and Pidge laughed happily. “I guess you’re cool with it, then?”</p><p>Keith shrugged. “You don’t need my approval to be yourself. But yeah. The binary’s stupid anyways.” Keith reached over and patted their head awkwardly. “I’m, uh, proud of you.”</p><p>“Thank you for the, uh… head pats, I guess? But seriously though, dude, thank you for being so cool about it.”</p><p>“It’s no problem,” Keith replied, looking down briefly at his food and then Pidge as if he didn’t know if it was socially acceptable to retreat back into his own headspace again.</p><p>“I’m proud of you too, Pidge,” Shiro said softly, “owning who you are will make you a better paladin, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to open up to us. Just know you can always come to me if you need to vent about things. I may not fully understand, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be your ally.”</p><p>“I appreciate your allyship, Shiro,” Pidge replied, giving him their own soft smile in return. </p><p>“Pidge, buddy,” Hunk began, tears already streaming down his face, “I love you, man, and I love your labels too!” He immediately squeezed them in a tight hug, startling them, although they soon relaxed into it.</p><p>“...you’re planning the cake you’re gonna bake already, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Hunk began, finally letting them go, “I’m gonna make it all green and funky with little iced flags on top and I’m gonna fill it with your favourite Azoraberry jam from the new Olkari settlements when we stop off there. And I promise not to eat the frosting before I give it to you.”</p><p>“Maybe make two lots of frosting so you can eat some to yourself without stealing mine?”</p><p>“...Pidge you absolute genius, I love you.”</p><p>“Love you too, big guy,” they replied, patting his back. They turned anxiously to Lance, and Lance realised he was the last of the paladins to comment. </p><p>“You’re doing great, Pidge,” Lance said sincerely, “I’m glad you’re able to be yourself around us and I’m glad you figured things out, especially whilst you’re still so young.”</p><p>“Who are you and what have you done with the real Lance,” Pidge accused playfully, pointing their fork at him.</p><p>“I told him he was an idiot,” Lance replied with a half laugh, “man I reacted so stupidly when you said you were a girl, I’m sorry for that, man. Like I know I was surprised and all but, I probably didn’t need to make such a fuss about it.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay,” Pidge replied, shaking their head, “I mean yeah you were a bit dramatic about it, but I get you weren’t being weird about it. Although I’m glad you’ve matured since then because if you’d have shrieked like a yelmore when I came out today, I might have just threw food at your face.”</p><p>“Well maybe you should throw food at <em> Keith’s </em> face, because-” Lance didn’t get to finish his sentence before Keith grabbed the giant bowl of food goo from the middle of the table and threw it right at Lance’s face.</p><p>“WHAT THE HELL, MULLET?!”</p><p>“FOOD FIGHT!!” This time, the onslaught of food came from Pidge, and Lance shrieked loudly as he was pelted with food. Lance supposed Pidge would talk to the alteans after lunch, but for now, it was war, and Lance had a food fight to win.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>also if anyone actually guessed Pidge's reveal from the title, imagine Keith giving you a head pat</p><p>Also I'm transmasc nb so Pidge's reveal also has a level of projection in it (also who here'd read a trans klance fic if I wrote some?)</p><p>I did the pronouns the way I did because I wanted it to feel authentic. It's through Lance's POV primarily, and ofc, Lance had no idea Pidge was non-binary until they revealed it in this chapter, and as far as they'd told everyone, they were a girl and used she/her, so it was the respectful thing to do after Pidge had come out as a girl and would've been disrespectful to misgender them even if they were perceived as cis. But now Pidge realised they're non-binary and came out, so Lance immediately switches to correctly gendering them in his head as soon as he's aware of their gender. Pidge has always been non-binary, but they didn't always know it, and didn't always outwardly identify as non-binary, so Lance wouldn't have magically known to use they/them when Pidge had explicitly told people they were a girl. But as soon as he knew, he immediately switched to using they/them.<br/>And he's doing that even without speaking. He's using their pronouns in his head both to practice and also because he trusts Pidge knows themselves and are the gender they say they are, and he respects them and sees them as non-binary (because they are). He doesn't see them as 'basically a girl' because of being afab, he sees them as non-binary, because they are non-binary. It's natural for him to respect their gender even in his own head where nobody would know if he did misgender them, because he genuinely respects them as a human being and their identity</p><p>For those who don't know, AFAB means 'assigned female at birth'. AMAB would be 'assigned male at birth'. Not to be confused with ACAB but that's a story for another day akshdks</p><p>Also I've kind of been feeling Punk Lance would be awesome lately, wbu?</p><p>Oh! Also I made an insta where I rarely post but have started to attempt art, it's keiths_fangs</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Freedom in reflection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance reflects on his labels</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw: Impostor syndrome<br/>Cw: reflection on past Allurance and why it didn't work out (adding this as a content warning because it's a perfectly good ship but you're all here for Klance and some of you may not really want to read mentions of other ships with keith or lance kind of like me)</p><p>So hi! It's been a really rough week for me, so I'm glad I'd pre-written this chapter again. On the plus side, I came out to an old friend on Trans Day of Visibility so!! That was great! I came out as bi a lot too and honestly the coming out process never stops</p><p>Also hi, who would read a klance fic with one or both of them being trans if I wrote it?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Lance twenty minutes to pull all the food goo out of his hair in the shower. He had <em> not </em> expected Keith to wake up and choose violence today, yet here he was, absolutely covered in food goo from head to foot. It had been worth it though- Pidge had opened up about their gender and the food fight seemed to have distracted them from their anxiety about it. And Keith had been smiling and laughing instead of brooding though lunch, which was nice to see. More than anything though, it made Lance realise just how much he’d missed being with his friends and how much he missed goofing off with them all the time and getting into trouble. Shiro was <em> not </em> happy about the food fight, despite the fact he threw a fair amount of food at Keith himself, but it was totally worth it for the serotonin. </p><p>Lance decided to change into his pyjamas early, glad he’d been able to grab some stuff from Earth. He definitely kept the lion slippers, although he appreciated having a fluffier, warmer robe to wear around the castle. He glanced briefly at all of his skincare products, but decided to leave it for another day or something, instead opting to lay back on his bed and stare at the ceiling.</p><p>Pidge had come out to the team, and everything was okay. Nobody was weird about it, nobody questioned and interrogated them about it, and everybody immediately respected who they were. Lance had no chance of sneaking to steal the leftovers because Hunk had decided to start immediately on the cake, and Pidge decided to join him because it was as good of an excuse as any to make a mess with flour everywhere, and sure, Lance could just <em> ask </em> for leftovers, but where was the fun in that? Keith had gone to bed early for some reason and Shiro had decided to hang out with the alteans for a late night coffee. Which left Lance on his own for a while with his own thoughts.</p><p>Pidge was so young, and they were just owning their identity so casually and openly, and it made Lance long for that too. He wanted to be able to come out like Pidge, like Shiro, and embrace his identity. He was getting tired of hiding and suppressing who he was, and he just wanted to live. He’d been his own worst enemy lately. He’d buried everything so far down that he lost sight of what really mattered. He’d felt safe in the closet, but now he was starting to feel like he’d shoved himself in there and locked himself in instead of accepting that he was allowed to be different and he was allowed to feel different and exist different to everyone else. He wanted to be like Keith, who found the ace label and immediately adopted it without overcomplicating the thinking process. Lance wanted to be <em> free </em>.</p><p>The truth was, Lance hadn’t felt like himself for a long while now. He’d felt like an imposter in his own skin, like a fraud, and he rarely stopped to ask himself if that was unhealthy or not- or more importantly, how much it had stopped him from accepting himself.</p><p>He stood up abruptly, and made his way to the mirror. He needed to look at himself and face it once and for all, because he was never going to be like Pidge or Shiro or Keith if all he ever did was ruminate on it and go in circles when he knew he already had the answers and he just needed to take charge and own who he was. </p><p>He’d been exploring the bisexual label for the past week, had applied it to himself in his head without doubting if he really liked men or not. And it hadn’t felt wrong yet. It didn’t feel alien. He’d been allowing himself to put a name to how he felt instead of just acknowledging it and burying it. Maybe he hadn’t connected with the bisexual community yet, and maybe he’d have to wait until he got back to Earth to do that, but he didn’t mind so much anymore. He needed to stop waiting for other people to tell him who he was, and start defining his own labels. Because nobody could better judge whether Lance was bisexual or not than Lance himself. Nobody could wave a magic wand and confirm his sexuality for him, and if Lance was constantly waiting for people to tell him who he was, then he’d never find out. People would erase him or label him wrong, or some would agree with him but Lance would hesitate because not everybody thought so. He’d let the world tell him he was straight, and he was hurt because of it, so he wasn’t going to wait for the world to tell him who he was anymore. Whilst he could go to Shiro for guidance, Shiro couldn’t tell him who he was, and Lance needed to take the power back over his own identity for once.</p><p>He took a deep breath, and assessed how he’d felt whilst trialling the bisexual label out. </p><p>He hadn’t felt as confused. He’d stopped questioning himself when he saw a pretty girl and stopped doubting if he was really attracted to men, and accepted that it was simply a part of a more complex sexuality than one or the other. He stopped agonising over who he might or might not like, and allowed himself to be compassionate towards himself. He gave himself the room to exist as someone whose sexuality was not singular in nature, but rather he accepted his duality. He swung both ways- same and other genders. Lance had stopped questioning who he was and had started moving towards more than just acceptance of himself, moving instead towards truly <em> understanding </em> everything. </p><p>Acknowledgement became acceptance became understanding became nuance became comfort. </p><p>So Lance was beginning to feel as though the bisexual label wasn’t just an experiment anymore. It fit, and Lance knew it fit. It fit freakishly well, and Lance couldn’t deny it. It made him feel less constrained by who he should be, and instead allowed him to get comfortable with who he was. His feelings were no longer a nebulous mass now he had a word for it. It wasn’t a matter of seeing what works anymore: Lance was bisexual.</p><p>He wasn’t straight. He wasn’t gay. His attraction wasn’t binary. He was bisexual; whole and beautiful. Other genders, the same gender, all a part of Lance’s attraction, both different to Lance but both equally as important. It wasn’t something he could switch between or turn off; it was all an intrinsic part of him. He was <em> whole </em>. He wasn’t fragmented into binary attractions he could change or choose. He would always be bisexual. And maybe he’d find a person he really loved, and maybe he’d commit to loving them. Maybe he’d lose interest in whether he found others attractive or not, but he would still always be bisexual. It was a part of him, a part of his identity that couldn’t be erased. His experiences being attracted to people in all their uniqueness, across genders and outside of the duality of man and woman- that wouldn’t fade away. That was a part of Lance just as important as any other, if not more, because it shaped such a big and important part of him. His love didn’t have to be a binary coded performance. He could love as part of a whole, deeper identity. </p><p>He didn’t have to sacrifice that. If he settled with a woman, he didn’t have to be heterosexual. If he settled with a man, he didn’t have to be gay. He didn’t even have only men and women as options anymore. He could love anybody across the gender spectrum, and he would still be a whole, complete bisexual. His attraction to the same gender would not be erased when he dated other genders. His attraction to other genders would not be erased when he dated the same gender. And if people thought it did- well, he didn’t owe them anything. He didn’t have to give up his labels just because other people didn’t understand his nuance.</p><p>Lance let out a shaky breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He finally had the answers he’d been looking for, and a word for his experiences. He was bisexual, and that was who he always was. He was <em> bisexual </em>. </p><p>He smiled to himself, letting out a small laugh as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes. He’d spent so long in turmoil over this, and now he was liberated from that pain. It felt good to call himself bi and accept that it wasn’t just a phase or a suspicion or a trial. This was real, and this was his. It was his identity and his label and his experiences, all summed up under one neat little word and one cool little flag. Lance was not a monochrome man, but he was pink and blue and purple and it bled out into his smile in waves of self-discovery.</p><p>He laughed with joy, because he finally felt like he truly knew himself. He finally felt open to the idea of love and suddenly everything felt resolved. He’d been so scared of commitment in the past because he wasn’t himself. He was living a lie thinking he was straight and could only ever be straight, and how could he be open to the idea of loving somebody when he’d been ignoring who he really was and burying it? Of course it didn’t feel right to settle down, because he knew deep down that he didn’t want to tie himself down before he accepted his attraction. He didn’t want to trap himself with a woman thinking he was straight instead of being with somebody knowing he wasn’t. He was still open to dating women, of course, but it was different now. He wouldn’t also be trapping himself in an identity that buried who he really was. If he did love a woman, he’d love her as a bisexual man, and she’d have to accept that part of him first.</p><p>Allura had felt safe to fall in love with. She was pretty and kind and compassionate and strong and whole. Allura knew herself. And Lance knew he didn’t have a chance with her. And then he did, and suddenly he was in a relationship and she should’ve been all he’d ever wanted, but it never felt right. And now Lance knew why it never felt right. He was hiding, and she made it easy to hide who he was. He could pretend with her, and he wouldn’t have to confront who he was. But his heart hadn’t been in it, because it was built on lies. It was built on Lance’s suppression and it only hurt him. And her heart wasn’t in it either. She needed to feel loved, needed somebody to love her back, and Lance had loved her, so it had been safe for her too. But neither of them were truly present in the relationship. They were friends who had both needed something precious, who had turned to each other because it was the safest option, to realise that kissing didn’t feel right when their hearts weren’t in it.</p><p>Being friends with Allura on the other hand felt right. It felt like freedom. Lance supposed they were closer now they’d both matured and realised they weren’t the perfect fit for each other that they thought they were. He figured Allura would be one of the first people he’d want to tell about his sexuality in private, because she was still special to him. She’d grown to be like a sister to him now, and Lance was grateful for that. She hadn’t been the girl of his dreams, but she’d been the right girl to make him realise he didn’t want the heterosexual dream. Allura didn’t feel bitter about the relationship either. She’d learned from the care Lance showed her that she could learn to love herself too. Allura had invested so much of her energy into loving other people that she’d forgotten that she also deserved her own love, and that seeking it from others was completely okay but it couldn’t replace learning to love yourself. And of course, she was still capable of loving others wholly without loving herself, but for Allura at least, it had been toxic, because she didn’t love herself enough to realise she deserved better. She’d settled for men who weren’t right for her, because she didn’t feel worthy of love so when it found her, she latched onto it and compromised herself and her identity, had given love out without boundaries and conditions, and gotten her heart broken. So whilst it was perfectly possible to love somebody else and learn to love yourself along the way, or to love somebody else and be loved but not love yourself yet, it hadn’t been healthy for Allura personally to love others before she learned to love herself. Every person was different, and unfortunately, Allura needed to learn to love and respect herself before she gave too much of herself away to others.</p><p>So Lance didn’t regret his relationship with Allura, but he was glad they broke up. Lance hadn’t been ready for a relationship, because he hadn’t figured out who he really was yet, and Allura needed to work on prioritising herself before rushing into another relationship. They’d both been struggling, and they depended too heavily on each other for self-worth. They both wanted somebody to fix them, and that wasn’t how it worked. A partner could hold you together and help you out and support you, but relationships didn’t fix people. They couldn’t. And the break-up had been rough, because Lance had felt as though he was finally being fixed and suddenly he was on his own with nobody to fix him. But Allura’s job was never to fix him. She was his girlfriend, not his saviour. And he was her boyfriend, not her strength.</p><p>And now they were friends. Allura still leaned on others, admitted when she couldn’t stay strong anymore, and Lance still leaned on others, let them hold him together so he could fix himself. But neither of them were using a relationship as a miracle cure when all it ever did was plaster over the cracks and fracture them both further. As friends, Lance and Allura were closer than they’d ever been. Lance learned a lot about himself, and his behaviour. Allura had talked to him honestly about how his flirting had made her uncomfortable when she hadn’t reciprocated it and had showed her disdain for it, and Lance admitted to himself that he’d been a jerk, that women deserved better. He should’ve backed off. Lance had also learned that he wasn’t selfish. His whole life, he was told he was selfish, too much, but he’d given so much of his heart to Allura, gone out of his way to do things for her and put her needs first. Allura had told him that he was selfless, but putting his life in danger for her wasn’t selfless, it was reckless. She never wanted him to die for her; she wanted him to live for her. Lance understood that without a fuss: when he’d almost lost her, when she’d sacrificed herself for everyone, he’d wished she would’ve lived for them instead. He was glad that she did.</p><p>So Allura would be one of the people he talked to about it one on one. He wanted her to know how important she’d been to him on his journey of self-discovery, and how grateful he was for her friendship. And maybe Lance wasn’t ready right now to come out to people, because it was terrifying and he’d only just found a label, but when he was ready, she’d be one of the people who was important to him in a way others couldn’t be, because Allura had taught him that he needed to be himself and not just her boyfriend. </p><p>Lance took a deep breath and stepped away from the mirror, instead wondering down to the observation deck. It had been an emotional few hours, and Lance needed to stretch his legs and feel like he’d gotten some air to breathe. He’d finally concreted a label in his head, finally put a word to his sexuality, finalised his sexuality crisis with an answer that felt like freedom, however scary it was. He just had to work on his fear now, because he’d worked on his identity. Years of feeling out of place, years of feeling like a fraud, all behind him now. It felt so odd, to look back at how long it had taken him to get here, and to remind himself that he’d finally reached the end of his journey. He no longer searched for the answers, because he’d found them now.</p><p>The stars were disorientating to look at whilst the castle was moving so fast, but the observation deck was bigger, cooler, less stifling. Lance felt at peace now. He felt full, and whole. He was a bisexual man, and he was <em> free </em>.</p><p>He might have still been scared, and he might still have had some work to do on being comfortable in his identity, but he’d fully accepted who he was. He didn’t have to keep waiting for some kind of sign, or some kind of external validation, because his identity was enough. He was enough. He was whole, and he didn’t need somebody else to tell him that, or to tell him how he should feel, and how he should identify. Like Keith had told Pidge, he didn’t need anyone’s permission to be himself. He didn’t need to wait for others to decide who he was for him. He could just be Lance.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So hi! Just to double clarify about Allura's issue; you can not love yourself and still be very loved by others. You can not love yourself, and still be capable of loving somebody else fully. You are not unloveable or incapable of love just because you may not love yourself. However for some (not all) people, loving somebody else before they love themselves can turn toxic, because they give too much of themselves away and ignore their own boundaries because they just don't have any respect or love for themselves, so they become selfless to a fault. Allura, in this fic, is that person. She sacrifices so much of herself to keep others safe and happy that it hurts her. She sees herself as disposable, so sacrificing herself, giving all of herself away to make somebody else happy is an easy choice for her. So Allura and Lance broke up partly because Allura needed to learn how to love herself enough to affirm her own boundaries and enforce them before she can allow herself to throw herself into loving others with her whole heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Pressure cooker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance hates training and who gave Keith the right to be such a cool badass?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: fear of being outed/ perceived threat of being outed, panic attack briefly described</p><p>I’d like to clarify- Lance will <em>NOT</em> be outed in this Fic and he will come out entirely on his own terms when he’s <em>ready</em>. The events in this chapter happen to bring about Lance confronting <em>why</em> he’s so afraid and hesitant of coming out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance wasn’t so sure if he was ready for the next stage of his journey. He couldn’t keep procrastinating his sexuality, especially now he’d already figured it out and put a name to it. He’d spent long enough questioning what he already knew deep down, trialling things out and shutting himself down because it would lead to this step. The step that Lance was most scared to take.</p><p>Coming out.</p><p>It wasn’t going to be today, Lance had decided that much. He wasn’t quite ready yet, full of fears and internalised biphobia he needed to shed first, and besides, he still needed to figure out a solid plan of how to come out. Did he come out to everyone at once? Individually? What if they didn’t know if the others knew or not and accidentally outed him, or never talked about it through fear of outing him? But if he told them all at once, he couldn’t make it so personal. And would he come out seriously? With a pun? Would he find his most bisexual outfit to put on? Would he see if he could go on a trip to the space mall to see if they had a bi flag? A t-shirt saying ‘bi-sexy’? How was one supposed to come out? Should he find a literal closet and burst out of that?</p><p>Lance shook his head, pushing the thoughts from his head. He could already feel himself getting a headache from overthinking it, knowing he wasn’t going to get the answers like this. Shiro was his safest option to come out to, mainly because he already kind of had, so that should be easy for him. But it wouldn’t necessarily be so easy to tell the others. Sure, they’d responded well to Pidge, but Pidge’s coming out was about gender and lack of attraction. Maybe if they knew about Shiro they might not be homophobic, otherwise they’d definitely have said something, but what if they didn’t understand being bi? What if they believed all the stereotypes? What if they saw Lance as a straight guy trying to be special, or a gay guy in denial? What if they saw him as a promiscuous cheat? What if they got sick of him talking about both and yelled at him to just pick a side? What if they stopped trusting him because of it? What if they told all his future dates to be cautious, because he’d leave them for another gender? What if they erased his bisexuality, calling him straight when he was with a girl and gay when he was with a man? What if they told him he couldn’t be bi when he’d only dated women? What if they didn’t understand that Lance’s dating history didn’t mean he only liked women? That it was easier to date just women so far because he wasn’t out yet, was still working through his confusion? That it was easier to date a woman than try to figure out how to respectfully ask a guy if he’s into dudes, and hope to high hell he didn’t get pummelled into the dirt for hitting on the wrong guy? How did he explain that no matter who he dated, he would still be bisexual? That Lance took fidelity and loyalty very seriously, and being bi wouldn’t change that at all, because who he was attracted to did not dictate his moral compass or corrupt it in any way? What if they just didn’t get it?</p><p>Lance didn’t realise he’d reached the training deck until he walked smack into the door frame, the sudden shock of hitting his head ripping him out of his thoughts. He blinked, shaking his head and trying to bring himself back into coherent thought before going in. Everybody was already there, and Allura looked pissed off. Lance must’ve been late. “What time do you call this exactly? Training was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago! What were you even doing?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Allura,” Lance mumbled, scuffing his boot across the floor and stuffing his hands in his pockets, “didn’t realise the time.”</p><p>“Then set an alarm,” she chastised, “this cannot happen again.”</p><p>Lance shrugged, tempted to just sit on the bench and take a long nap, but he didn’t wanna be yelled at again today, so he tried to force himself out of his exhausted daze and start stretching out. Keith was watching him with a scowl, which only pissed Lance off even more- was Keith really that jealous that Lance was more flexible than he was? Lance huffed, taking his sweet time to stretch, because he was in a foul mood now after being chastised and glared at. He was going to start identifying as a problem if everyone kept treating him like one. And maybe that was petty and dumb, but Lance was getting real tired of trying so hard to be good enough and always falling short of impossible standards. He didn’t have the energy for this; not today. He missed Allura explaining the training drill, but he figured he’d adapt and figure it out as he went along. Maybe he should spark up the rivalry with Keith. That was always a good way to get his frustrations out, although he’d try to keep the competition healthy today. Besides, his new maybe-friendship with Keith was fragile, and he really didn’t wanna spook the poor guy by being too intense.</p><p>Lance joined the others, Hunk kindly explaining what they were doing, because of course Hunk was an angel of a man who always knew when Lance hadn’t been listening. Lance, of course, immediately turned to Keith, who was stood there with his arms folded all pouty and broody. “Hey mullet,” Lance began, leaning into Keith’s space, “bet you can’t take down as many gladiators as me.”</p><p>“Believe whatever you wanna believe, Lance,” Keith replied, turning to Lance with a dangerous smirk, “but if I win, you have to do my share of the dishes for a month.”</p><p>“I won’t be doing any dishes, mullethead,” Lance scowled, “Because <em>I’m</em> going to win, and then <em>you’re</em> gonna do all my laundry for a month!”</p><p>“Good job I’m gonna wipe the floor with you then,” Keith jibed, “because never in a million years would I wanna touch your biohazard laundry pile.”</p><p>Lance squeaked in indignation, turning to face him fully and throwing his arms out in offence. “Oh <em> my </em> laundry is a biohazard?! You don’t even put pyjamas on for bed, Keith! You don’t even change after training! You’re a stinky, sweaty boy!”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Well you’re just a-”</p><p>“Boys!” Both boys paused immediately, eyes wide as they registered Shiro’s disappointed dad voice. Keith was the first to break out of his surprise, face settling back into an easy smirk. </p><p>“If I win, now you’re doing my dishes <em>and</em> my laundry.” Keith walked off, leaving Lance stood there staring into the space Keith had previously occupied in indignation. He looked around at everyone as if to say <em>’did you just see that?!’</em> Pidge and Hunk had already partnered up, and Shiro was stood there facepalming and shaking his head. Allura was rolling her eyes, and Lance realised he should probably get ready for the training drill to start. </p><p>It was a disaster from start to finish. The room was filled with artificial smog, and Lance was glad he had his paladin helmet to filter out the thick air. He could barely see, even with the lights on his helmet and the lights on his gauntlet. Even looking through his rifle’s sight left him just as blind, the smog too thick to see more than a few metres in front of him. He had to listen out carefully for the sounds of the gladiator droids approaching, and more than once Lance had gotten his ass kicked only for Keith to butt in and kill steal from him. Keith was completely savage, tearing through bots like they were butter, and all Lance could do was stare at him through his rifle in absolute jealousy because how did he look so- so-</p><p>“Lance!” Lance jumped at the harsh sound of Keith’s voice, Keith barrelling towards him full speed. Lance shreiked and lowered his gun, ducking just as Keith reached him and leaped like some kind of demented cat over his head. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, the sound of metal scraping against metal way too close to him for Lance’s comfort. When he heard the whine of the gladiator settle down into silence, he chanced a glance behind him. Keith was stood with his back to Lance, running a hand through his mullet- when had he took his helmet off? The remains of a gladiator droid were mangled on the floor, broken circuitry sparking and flickering where clumps of wires had been ripped out, still in Keith’s hand. </p><p>Keith called out to end the training sequence whilst Lance just sat there on the floor, shaking with adrenaline as he realised just how close the bot had been to caving his skull in. If that had been a galra soldier, Lance would’ve been dead if it weren’t for Keith turning absolutely feral and going ham on the droid. Lance felt his cheeks flame with the heat of what Lance assumed must’ve been embarrassment, pulling his helmet off as the smog began to clear, watching Keith’s heavy breathing as he remained stood there over the decimated gladiator.</p><p>Keith eventually turned to face him, concern etched onto his face for a while, before settling into another dangerous smirk. His eyes had gone all galra, pupils slitted and sclera yellowed and glowing faintly through the remainder of the smog. His skin had taken on a weak lilac tinge, fangs seemingly larger than Lance remembered them to be. The heat returned to Lance’s face, which totally made sense given how much running about they’d just been doing. “You’re welcome,” Keith replied, voice way too smooth for somebody with a clump of severed circuitry in his hands, “Oh, and Lance? Good luck doing my chores.” Keith grinned, walking off before the realisation of what he’d just said hit Lance. Lance squawked indignantly, following after him, but the stupid mullethead had already dissapeared off, leaving Lance standing there trying to process what the fuck just happened to his brain to make him lose the bet in the first place.</p><p>Lance finally gathered the remaining pieces of his fried brain together for long enough to hit the showers and grab himself a snack from the kitchen. They had more training after, so Lance didn’t bother to get changed yet. He decided not to dwell on whatever happened in training, because it must have been that Lance got too fixated on the rivalry with Keith that he merely watched him a little too closely and forgot to take down any bots himself. It was the only rational explanation Lance could think of, so he decided to cut himself some slack and promise himself to do better next time. </p><p>Instead, he lay in the middle of the floor and cycled his legs in the air, letting the reality of losing to Keith set in fully. Keith <em> always </em> made bets that resulted in Lance doing his turn on the washing up. Every time, without fail. Lance was pretty sure the guy had never touched a single dirty dish in the entire time he’d spent on the castle. Well, castles, being as the first castle had been thoroughly decimated a while ago. At least on the Atlas the kitchen staff did the washing up, but at Keith’s shack back on earth it was just ready meals and disposable plates. Keith had never asked Lance to do his laundry, though. Keith had once completely flipped when Coran picked up a different fabric softner than usual from the space mall, and for a week Keith had refused to wear his normal clothes, keeping his paladin undersuit on the whole time. Coran ended up turning the castle around and getting the right fabric softener, and Keith had looked guilty about it for a month after. Lance suspected it was a texture or sensory thing with his clothes, which would probably explain why Keith tended to wear his clothes until the knees stretched out, often replacing them with the same clothes but new. Lance didn’t really mind the idea of doing laundry, but he really didn’t wanna do it wrong and cause Keith unnecessary distress. </p><p>Hunk eventually came to collect him for training, at which point Lance’s back felt pretty stiff from laying on the floor for so long. His legs ached a bit too. Maybe that was a bit of a bad idea to do before training, Lance mused belatedly, but there was no time to dwell on that either. He stretched out a little before heading to the training deck, the back soreness easing, although his legs still burned. He was getting used to that burn, though, so he figured he’d just have to push through it anyways, depending on what type of training they’d be doing. If it was the invisible maze, it wouldn’t matter much, but the chances of Keith or Pidge guiding him straight into the walls for entertainment was far too high. It didn’t actually hurt much, or cause any damage, but Lance would still be dramatic about it for the sake of it anyways.</p><p>When Keith finally walked in late with no explanation of where he’d been or why he was late, Allura announced something far worse than the invisible maze. </p><p>They were gonna be using the telepathic headsets. Lance really didn’t wanna be using a telepathic headset when all his brain could focus on was being bi and how to come out. He wasn’t ready for them to find out, and Lance wasn’t quite sure if he could keep his thoughts focused.</p><p>The first long session with the headsets had been… something, to say the least. Hunk had kept thinking about food so much it made Lance hungry, and Pidge had kept thinking of family memories that made Lance really miss home. Shiro had been scarily good at keeping his mind closed off and only showing what he wanted to, although too many pushes in the wrong direction had a wall of distress hitting everyone through the connection before he was able to keep it concealed. Keith had been good at staying on task, until Pidge mentioned knives, and then Keith’s mind kept projecting random facts about knife making and knife collecting and why some swords were really better for horseback than close combat.</p><p>And then they got to Lance, and- well. </p><p>That was a mess.</p><p>Lance just couldn’t find the focus under pressure, and it all just kinda spiralled. Even when Lance was doing his best to focus, his brain would decide it was a great time to play word association and start leading Lance off on a tangent of barely linked concepts to completely irrelevant thoughts. He managed to get through the tasks just fine, but his brain was just so disorganised the whole time and Lance felt embarrassed about it.</p><p>Eventually, Lance had come to accept that his brain would do whatever it wanted, and the team were patient when a task made his mind remember something else, like a certain phrase reminding him of song lyrics reminding him of a party reminding him of an ex reminding him of kissing reminding him of a random fact he’d learned about how crows kiss until somebody gently reminded him of his task, at which point he’d do as he was asked. Sometimes the others ended up getting distracted much like Lance did, so he felt a little less alone after that, but the others had managed to refine their focusing abilities over multiple sessions. Lance’s brain, however? Absolutely refused to focus. He’d tried bribing himself with food. He’d tried music. He’d tried giving his brain half an hour before the session to wonder wherever it wanted. But still, it was rare Lance could keep himself fully focused on the task. Even when he mastered managing to ignore all the thoughts in his head, they still leaked through and overlapped. Even when he smashed every task without going on a tangent, whatever thoughts decided to pop up at the same time would leak through the connection.</p><p>On rare occasions, Lance would focus so hard on the task the team couldn’t follow his thought process, because it seemed to skip ahead several steps, or the thought would occur to him without the mental image or his inner voice getting involved. So even when his thoughts didn’t all overlap, sometimes they just seemed to go so fast and process everything so efficiently that it seemed like he was jumping around and skipping steps, but the computer would show that Lance had already thought through those parts.</p><p>Lance knew today wasn’t going to be like that. His sexuality was something his brain had decided to fixate on for a long, long time now, and it hadn’t decided to give him a break from it. Lance’s brain was in overdrive all the time recently, and whilst he’d gotten used to having such a busy head, and ignoring how many thoughts overlapped or tried to pull his focus away, he still hadn’t been able to manage them well enough to keep them from bleeding through the connection. He could push them away and keep his focus on the right train of thought, or could recognise and dismiss thoughts that managed to distract him, but Lance’s thoughts just kind of… happened. He didn’t have to decide to think about anything for his brain to be thinking. It made sleeping and meditating absolute hell, because no matter how much he tried to keep his thoughts calm and quiet, or simply stop thinking, his brain would still have twenty tabs open, at least one of which would be music. Listening to actual instrumental music through headphones helped him focus on only the music, allowing his thoughts to calm enough for sleep to happen, but Allura had lectured him over it since Lance often slept through alarms. So now Lance slept terrible, and most sleep was achieved by being so exhausted his body decided to shut off his brain for him.</p><p>Lance hadn’t even realised how lost he’d gotten in his own thoughts about his own thoughts until Hunk nudged him and Lance looked around to see everyone with the headsets already on. He put his on, grateful that he was usually last to go. Today’s task was sifting through memories of the last battle to figure out tactical weaknesses and plan better for next time. Seemed simple enough, except Lance was already remembering by association that during the last battle he’d narrowly avoided being hit by a laser because he ended up being suddenly bombarded with his sexuality crisis. So Lance really wasn’t confident he could keep it from leaking through the connection, especially when today had already been a little difficult to keep his mind in one place.</p><p>Pidge’s memories were somehow both scattered and organised, like little clusters of information all connected by strings. They kept circling back after remembering a new piece of information, or jumping forwards when something made them remember something they didn’t want to forget. Their memories weren’t in order, but by the time they finished recalling, they were able to piece it all together in full order and detail. Lance was always a little awestruck by how their brain worked, but it definitely worked for Pidge. Pidge’s recall abilities allowed them to retain more information than their peers, which made it easier for them to expand on existing pools of knowledge. It was like Pidge never got bored of new information, never felt overloaded with too much new information at once- they identified patterns and associations, connected the details, found the concept, then everything would be neatly organised and remembered quickly, like a very efficient computer.</p><p>Hunk’s memories were more disjointed, with more gaps. He tried to remember events based on what he was feeling, or the points where he was nauseous. He tended to remember events in more detail when he recalled his anxiety, because he’d usually been overthinking every move. It came in useful sometimes, when it came to figuring out traps, because sometimes Hunk’s overthinking found the right answers. The memories of nausea weren’t exactly fun, though, but Hunk usually came up with ways to improve next time as he recalled the battle, which was more than welcome.</p><p>Shiro’s were like a battle report. Efficient, quick, only the important details. He didn’t focus on the details of what happened when, but rather focused on memorising their tactics. Sometimes his memory had gaps, or sometimes he’d stop and fixate on a single detail again and again trying to figure out what important information he was missing. He remembered most of his commands, memorised tactical patterns and what had worked before against what techniques. He usually spotted weaknesses in their tactics, or noticed weaknesses or opportunities in the Galra’s tactics that they’d missed during the battle. Shiro seemed very present and focused in every battle, whilst the rest of them usually struggled to think about tactics and formations when they were too busy trying not to get shot by the ion canons.</p><p>And then there was Keith’s. Keith’s was always thorough, but it could be hard to pinpoint his thought processes. One minute Keith would be recalling planning to take out a cruiser, and the next he’d have turned to take out a cluster of fighter jets, with no explanation of why he did other than just knowing what to do. It didn’t feel like instinct to Lance- at least, not in the gut feeling kind of way. It reminded him of when his own mind would seem to skip the part where he had to think things out in words and pictures- not instinct, but knowledge and thought. It was like Keith’s brain was assessing the battlefield and figuring out what to do, but Keith wouldn’t be made aware of that thought process. It seemed to just happen, and Keith would follow it through because he knew his idea was better than what he already had. It made it hard to see his reasoning behind things, but it was terrifying and thrilling in the best way to see Keith snap from focusing on the plan he’d communicated to suddenly switching it up and attacking full force with a completely different tactic. It kind of explained why Keith didn’t communicate his plans very well, because things in Keith’s head just seemed to make sense even when he didn’t have a way to visualise and verbalise it. How was he supposed to explain something his brain hadn’t given him the explanation for? Lance wasn’t sure if he would call it instinct, and he vaguely remembered reading about this kind of thinking- unsymbolised thinking- and it sure was impressive in battle. Keith didn’t exclusively think like this, but Lance could try forever to get to the bottom of how Keith thinks and still not manage to capture how complex it was. Maybe there really was a brain beneath that mullet.</p><p>And then it was supposed to be Lance’s turn. He hesitated, resisting the pull of the machine against his mind. He knew he needed to go through the battle like the others, but he could already feel his sexuality crisis clawing to the forefront of his mind. The more he tried not to think of it, the more he thought about it. It was like it just <em>knew</em> he didn’t want to be focusing on it right now, so it made it its mission to push it to the forefront of his mind and leave him trapped with no way out. He knew how he needed to think; knew he needed to get lost in the details of the battle even if he’d find himself thinking chaotically, but he didn’t think he’d be able to hide his sexuality from the team. It had such strong emotional context that it was the kind of thing that would almost certainly bleed out. His family was something that bled through the connection a lot- most of the team knew his family by name now, or knew what everybody liked for breakfast or who spent the most time in the bathroom getting ready of a morning (it was Lance), and Lance had come to terms with them knowing all about his family. But his sexuality was something he wasn’t ready to share yet, especially not like this, where he’d be so out of control of how it happened or what he projected. </p><p>Lance did long for a day where he could allow these thoughts to simply happen, without fear of outing himself. He wanted to be able to let the thoughts flow through the meld so they could see just how beautiful his bisexuality could be, but Lance didn’t want it to be so involuntary. He wanted to come out when he felt ready, and not when his brain couldn’t keep things hidden when he needed it to.</p><p>He considered throwing the headset off, but he knew it would draw attention to himself. He knew they’d all want to ask why, and Lance wouldn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t want to lie and say the memory was too painful, when he knew he might have important things to show them, and he knew he didn’t want to make them worry when there was nothing to worry about. But he really didn’t think he could filter his thoughts out and keep them away- he’d been working on it tirelessly, but he hadn’t mastered it by a long shot. He hoped the fear of being outed would keep the thoughts from bleeding through, but he feared that his fear of being outed would project through the headset.</p><p>Lance ended up ripping it off his head when he felt the machine about to break through his walls, blind panic taking over. He had too many secrets he wasn’t ready to spill, and he knew he couldn’t keep them contained. He’d tried so hard to contain them even in the safety of his own head, and they distracted him in battle and withdrew him from his friends. He couldn’t keep his thoughts stable enough, couldn’t trust himself to keep them away from the forefront of his mind for long enough to recall the battle. He knew he had to do the task, but he needed some time to think first, and figure out what to do. </p><p>He didn’t explain; he just ran.</p><p>He ran straight to his room and straight through to his personal bathroom, not pausing to see if anyone was following him and barely registering the sound of his own door closing. He briefly managed to feel sympathy for Hunk’s nausea issues, the anxiety making his stomach churn dangerously, panic still washing over him in near unmanageable ripples. He splashed cold water on his face again and again until he felt put together enough to grab some ice and pop it in his mouth, shocking his brain out of the panic and cutting out his flight or fight response.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long it took him to calm down, or how long he’d sat there just eating the ice after his anxiety had calmed, but he already felt exhausted, and he still didn’t know what to do.</p><p>He knew he’d have to go back. He knew that even if it wasn’t today, he’d be expected to do it soon, preferably before the next battle. Whilst they could happen at any point, it was more likely to happen on the fringes of rebel hotspots, where warlords were still trying to keep a hold of galra territory. They’d arrive at one in a few days, so Lance was on a timer. And he didn’t like that. Sure, Lance could sometimes thrive in the chaos and pressure, but when his sexuality was the thing he was running away from confronting, how was he supposed to feel comfortable with this? He could be outed by his own mind and nobody would know that Lance was trying desperately not to out himself until it happened. He couldn’t just tell them all he was trying not to out himself, because that would out him too. Maybe he could tell Shiro? Shiro would cover for him, Lance knew he would, but he also knew that he could only refuse the task for so long before it jeopardised the team and future missions. These exercises in the past had become so integral to their strategy meetings that Lance wasn’t so sure they’d have survived so many battles without it. Lance knew he needed to complete the task. He wanted to. He just wanted his brain to stop throwing his sexuality at him.</p><p>The door knocked, and Lance jumped out of his skin with a new wave of panic and anxiety, barely managing to settle it enough to put on an uneasy smile and open the door.</p><p>He’d never been more thankful to see Shiro in his life, although Shiro had his worried space dad face on, and as far as Lance was concerned, it was far better when people weren’t worried for his mental health, because then he wouldn’t wind up bothering them and traumatising them with all his problems. “Lance?”</p><p>“I’m good,” Lance replied a little too easily, “I just, uh, you know how it is! Anyway, great talk, Shiro! Bye now!” Lance tried to push him away, but it turned out trying to push away somebody taller and stronger than you was like trying to push Kaltenecker up the ramp to his lion. Shiro wouldn’t budge, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “...I’m not ready for them to find out,” Lance admitted, moving away from the door as an invitation for Shiro to come in. Shiro nodded in understanding, quickly moving to stand in the room.</p><p>As soon as the doors closed, Shiro looked at Lance with an empathetic half-smile, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Lance sat beside him, finally allowing himself to slouch with mental exhaustion and put his head in his hands. “I just- I <em> can’t </em> filter my thoughts, Shiro,” Lance began, letting all of his anxiety pour out into his voice, “I can’t, and I’m not ready to come out yet. And I’m terrified that I’m not gonna figure out how to keep it hidden before I have no choice but to go over the battle, and it’s all gonna come pouring out of my brain and I won’t have any control over it. It wouldn’t be so bad if nobody could see in my head, or if I knew a way to filter out all my thoughts, but I can’t. I can’t just do that, I’ve <em> tried</em>, but it just doesn’t work!”</p><p>“Hey,” Shiro began gently, “I won’t let you get outed. We’ll figure something out somehow. I don’t know, maybe I can ask Coran if there’s a way I could act as a filter, of some kind. Get the thoughts from you before the others do and, filter out the stuff about your sexuality. I mean I don’t know if it works like that, but if it doesn’t, I’ll try and buy you more time if I can’t get you out of it entirely. Just hang in there, Lance. I’ll figure something out, I promise.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Lance huffed, trying to push the stress away, “I don’t know. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to come out, and the thing is, I <em>want</em> to go over the battle with the team, but I just… I just, I’m not ready to come out yet, not like that. I don’t even know who to tell first or, or how to do that. And I know I still have some stuff to work on about it first, y’know? A-and maybe through the mind link would be the best way to come out, because I could project what I wanted everyone to know and stuff, and talk to everybody individually and at once, but at the same time, I, want it to be when I’m ready to. And I genuinely can’t predict how long it’s gonna be. It feels like- sometimes I’m ready for it, and I’m absolutely sure I’m ready to come out, and then others, it feels like I never wanna say it out loud. And that makes it harder for me to figure it out, because I already have too much trouble sorting out the future. I can’t just, pick a day and decide that’ll definitely be the day I’ll do it. I’ve tried planning ahead, but it just makes me panic so much because that feels so out of my control even though I know it’s more controlled than waiting for whatever random time my brain decides I should just come out with it, but it’s like- if I set a day, what if I’m not ready by then? I can’t just set a timer on my feelings, I don’t work like that, and I don’t feel like anybody does. So I’m just- kinda stuck, not knowing what I should do about it.”</p><p>Shiro stayed quiet for a little while, and Lance was glad for the breathing room in his head now he’d voiced all that, even if his mind was still swirling. The thought that somebody else could be there to help him sort through the mess and find the solution in there felt like a fresh breath even if his head was still below the water.</p><p>“I’ll buy you some time,” Shiro said, “I’ll tell Allura you’re not feeling well again and I’ll do everything I can to delay our arrival at the next planet. Just keep me in the loop, I’ll do what I can, and if time runs out, I’ll figure out a way to stop everyone finding out through the link. We can stall for time, I’ll do that. Don’t worry about the time, just focus on sorting out your head and what you want to do about it, okay?”</p><p>Lance nodded, torn between the grim feeling of his world collapsing and the relief he had at the breathing space created by Shiro holding up the sky like Atlas and stopping it from crumbling and collapsing down onto Lance’s head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So hi!! Today is a bit of a rollercoaster day, I interacted with new people, got distracted by other fandoms, wrote Lance’s first coming out, planned a fic, heard Important news from relatives, brought merch and zines, watched chaotic vines and you tube, watched a movie and might watch another one later, and the queen’s husband died. (One of these is <em>not</em> like the others<br/>So today is A Day in a really weird way.</p><p>Also, as somebody encouraged my ideas, I’m working on a trans Klance one-shot!! Don’t worry- it won’t affect the posting of this Fic! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Normal is a myth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance reflects on normality and emotions</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw past homophobia mention, internalised homophobia, reflection upon suppression and shame</p><p>So hi!! Ngl it’s been a rough few weeks but hey, I’m still here and still posting! I hit 100 kudos a few weeks ago on this fic, and I honestly cannot thank you all enough. It absolutely makes my day when I read the comments you guys leave, and when I see the number of bookmarks and subscriptions rise, I honestly smile so wide. I appreciate the support a lot, and the same goes to any silent readers I may have, given the number of hits this fic has. Whether you just started reading, or if you’ve had the tab open on your computer since the beginning, I appreciate your support too.</p><p>&lt;3</p><p>50K WORD MARK, FUCK YEA!!!</p><p>(50,666 to be precise!!👀🏳️🌈)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance couldn’t focus. Not on training, not on his friends, not even on himself- or, at least, not even on his own basic needs. All he could think about was whether he was ready to come out or not, and how he’d do it. It felt too soon, like he’d barely just figured himself out, yet at the same time, it felt so stupidly unnatural to hide it all away in his head and wait for it to burst out anyways. He was now consciously aware of his own suppression on a level he never really had been before, and it made him double think almost every interaction he had. It felt like he couldn’t even get through one conversation without thinking about how they didn’t know he was bi, how he was hiding a part of himself he should be proud of away.</p><p>He was so mentally drained from finally processing his crisis that he genuinely couldn’t figure out what outcome he wanted from this, or how soon he wanted it. He didn’t feel ready, yet at the same time, he felt stifled. It felt wrong- <em>he</em> felt wrong: everything about himself suddenly felt so unnatural now that he knew he was hiding a part of himself away; a part of himself he should be proud of. And he wanted to be proud of it. He <em>wanted</em> to burst out of his suppression and shout his truth for all to know, but it just didn’t seem possible, and Lance wasn’t sure why.</p><p>He couldn’t figure out why he was holding back.</p><p>He wanted his friends to know, and he wanted to be open about who he was. He wanted to embrace his bisexuality and profess his attraction to men and rant about hot guys whilst laying on Hunk’s bed just like he’d yell about girls before. He wanted to stop hiding when he saw somebody hot who wasn’t a woman, wanted to flirt openly without worrying about his teammates knowing he was bi, because he wanted it to be a natural part of who he was.</p><p>He wasn’t ashamed of being bi anymore, and he wasn’t afraid to be different. Realising <em>why</em> he was different usually seemed to resolve that fear for Lance, because once he knew why he was so other, he could usually process and embrace his difference openly, because rather than other people noticing he was different and pointing it out to him teasingly, maliciously, he could take control, embrace his differences, and celebrate them. He’d have the answers for why he was different, why people treated him weirdly, and he could confront them about it. Now he knew he was bi, he knew why he felt so othered, why the other boys treated him weirdly, because even if they didn’t know Lance was bi, they picked up on the ways his masculinity deviated from the toxic rigidity they were all brought up in. Lance was ‘too feminine’, ‘too fruity’ for their approval, because of what? The odd skincare mask? The fact he didn’t like guys talking about women like they were pieces of meat in the locker room?</p><p>But now Lance realised that the same boys would cite his effeminate nature as a sign of his homosexuality, that they’d take the way he defended women as some kind of proof that he was gay, that he was queer, that they’d accuse him of perving on them, then get offended when Lance said he wasn’t attracted to stuck-up arseholes like them. They’d reduce his identity down to sexual roles, mock Lance for being less of a man, tease him, treat him like he was less of a man just because he liked men.</p><p>...and that’s what had been holding Lance back. Even if his team wouldn’t act like that, there’d certainly be people throughout his life who would, and Lance wouldn’t know who until they found out about his sexuality and exposed their true nature in a torrent of homophobic abuse. Lance closed his eyes and hoped it would just be words and slurs hurled at him, and not worse.</p><p>And Lance realised he was absolutely terrified of all the hate in the world, of all the toxic vitriol that could be directed at him if people really felt like hurling it at him. He was scared to be himself in a world that wanted him to shove himself away into a tiny, dull box, and forget who he was and why he was in favour of being ‘normal’. And Lance had been suppressing himself completely for so long now, because if he made it too obvious, maybe people would notice, and maybe he’d face the worst.</p><p>He was terrified, more terrified than he had been on the battlefield, because at least on there, the only judgment would be on his actions, his character, and not his identity. Not who he fundamentally was as a person. On the battlefield, he could wear armour, could raise his shield and shoot back and ask people to cover his back and not take a single shot in the process.</p><p>But being openly bi, he’d take all of the shots. He’d hear all of the words because they’d be said directly to his face, and no amount of thick skin would stop him from caring.</p><p>All his life, people had told him not to care about the haters, had taught him <em>‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’</em>. But it didn’t work. Apart from nightmares of saying that and having people throw sticks and stones at him instead, it gave him nothing but pain. Because when the words hurt, he didn’t allow himself to acknowledge that they did, because they weren’t supposed to. He never learned how to process the pain they caused, because he felt guilty for feeling the pain in the first place. And he’d taken it all to heart, changed himself, fought twice as hard to love himself than others around him had, and had still fallen short of the golden ideal. He couldn’t ignore the haters. It hurt when people used to bully him, and it would hurt him if people were biphobic towards him, and he’d never learned to develop a thick skin, because instead of being taught how to cope with and process the feelings caused by hate, he learned to shame himself for feeling, for being ‘too sensitive’, for ‘letting’ it all get to him. It was his fault the hate destroyed him so much, and not theirs. The onus was on him, rather than the responsibility being theirs not to hate. Instead of teaching people not to bully, instead of teaching people to set firm boundaries or keep themselves safe or to intervene when they saw something wrong, they tried to teach the victims not to care. </p><p>What a pathetic world that would be, if nobody ever cared.</p><p>So Lance had to try now, to teach himself how to handle the hate, because he’d only learned to shame himself for feeling, had hidden it away when it affected him until there was nothing left but shame and guilt for <em>feeling</em>. How much more shame would he have to endure? Why was it branded as being his fault for being too sensitive? Why was it even considered a bad thing, to have basic human emotions, to feel sadness and empathy and a healthy spectrum of human emotions? Why was it seen as a weakness? And how did that ever make it his fault for the hurt he endured?</p><p>So Lance was mad at the world, angry that his strength had been robbed from him, because he’d never been able to develop his strength and resilience when all he was taught was how to be ashamed and hide himself away, minimise his existence into a tiny corner, lie and pretend words didn’t affect him whilst they destroyed him inside. He’d been taught how to wear a mask, and the thought of taking it off, the thought of being truly, irrevocably vulnerable- yeah, that absolutely terrified him; <em>petrified</em> him, even. </p><p>He didn’t know what he would do when that mask came crashing down, when he allowed himself to show his authentic self. He wasn’t exactly living a lie, because he was always honest with himself, and had himself under no illusions about who he was and what he worked for anymore- but he was constantly behind a mask, hid under the mezzanine for none to see and all to know.</p><p>Coming out to his friends, his family, the people he trusted- it was supposed to be easy. Yet Lance was paralysed with fear; fear that he couldn’t even tell himself was irrational, because what he feared was a reality he’d seen and one he’d likely face. He wasn’t ready for that, and even if his friends supported him, the world out there was scary and unsupportive and unknown and intimidating, and Lance couldn’t do anything to stop himself facing that apart from minimise himself and suppress his identity until nobody ever knew. But Lance didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hide who he was forever out of fear of bigotry he <em>might</em> one day face. He genuinely didn’t think that his fear was worth compromising his sense of self over.</p><p>He took a deep breath, trying to re-organise his thoughts. He knew he couldn’t ruminate on this forever, that the time to come out would likely come sooner rather than later, but he needed so desperately to find the thing that was holding him back and confront it, if only he knew what it was.</p><p>Was it really only fear? Lance had never let fear stop him before, but perhaps this was different. Perhaps in the past, his hand was forced- he had no choice in fighting this war, had no choice in too many aspects of his life, and now he was faced with a part of himself that he couldn’t and didn’t want to change, but he could control how he presented it, how much he hid it and tried to appear normal-</p><p>And there it was. <em>Normal</em>. </p><p>The root of his problems; the desire to be seen as normal, stemming from the innate belief that he somehow <em>wasn’t</em>. The crushing isolation of being seen as different; of being read as <em>other</em>. Growing up, Lance had always been very aware of how different he was from his peers. He was the one singled out in class, made to stand outside, made to stop raising his hands, forced out of his natural behaviours; <em>’quiet hands, Lance, come on, we’re in class now, not the playground’</em>. Forced suppression, because he was always <em>too much</em>. Too different, too other- because he didn’t work- didn’t exist-  the way that they did. Mocking renditions of his natural energy being the source of laughter on the playground. Growing up, internalising everything he was told about himself- disruptive, naughty, a problem child. Dating, only to hear that he was too much, that he was too weird, too quirky, too loud and embarrassing, that he had no filter, that he needed to control his behaviour better.</p><p>And that’s all it was ever about, wasn’t it? Control. Lance fell outside of the norm, and that threatened the status quo, threatened the fragile world view of one way to act as think, shattered the illusion that <em>’there is no war in ba sing se’</em>. His existence threatened the facade of normality, and his difference made it harder to mould him into what they wanted him to be. He wasn’t the same as everybody else, his behaviour wasn’t as easily controlled, his thought processes too differentiated and deviated from everybody else’s for the control to work on him the same way that it did for others. And maybe that sounded dramatic, and maybe Lance had read ‘divergent’ too many times growing up, but maybe there was a reason he felt it hit so deep. Because Lance was different, and it was never celebrated- it was only ever a threat to the norm, an unpleasant reality and existence that people wanted to hide away, mock into not existing.</p><p>So all of Lance’s life, he’d had to learn how to act normal. Small things, at first, like keeping his hands still, harder skills, like only speaking when spoken to. Scripted words and phrases, suppressing his likes and dislikes to only show a socially acceptable level of interest in them, learning about popular culture he didn’t care much about to blend in, appear <em>normal</em>. Normal was a myth, and a pretty insidious one at that.</p><p>Because now Lance was queer, yet another way that he was other, different. And now he found himself trying to hide it, to appear normal, like that was ever a good thing. He found himself hiding himself away because he didn’t fit in, and not fitting in lead to ostracisation. And he didn’t want that for himself.</p><p>But he thought of Keith.</p><p>Keith, who didn’t fit in, probably couldn’t if he tried. Keith, with the social skills of a spoon and the attitude of a punk. Keith, who refused to be backed into a corner. Lance might not have known much about Keith’s past, but the stench of rejection permeated through his attitude, rippled out in the magnitudinous waves of passion and anger. It was like Keith had once caught so hard to be normal that realising how much it sucked fueled every last jet of passion in him to flare up and explode out in a spectrum of human experience that he didn’t know how to say, how to verbalise.</p><p>Keith never tried to fit in. He made no apologies for it, either. It was like Keith had been where Lance was now, bound tightly by the constraints of normality, a square peg being forced into a round hole, being hurt in the process, being sanded down and moulded into the perfect model citizen, except it didn’t work. And even though Lance could still see- could still <em>feel</em> the suppression rolling off him in waves, Lance knew that Keith fought against it with every fibre of his being. Maybe Keith didn’t express himself through the movements he’d express himself through alone, maybe he wouldn’t stand in front of the team and jump and spin, but he was getting there. Small things, like rubbing his thumb against his forefinger, the way he’d grunt and roll his neck, or the occasional bounce when he was impatient, to the way he exploded outwards through combat, coming alive like no other. Maybe Keith didn’t voice every interesting thought, every interesting bit of information he had, everything he found amusing, but sometimes he’d tell a joke and explain it, or when he understood a joke, explain why it was funny, eyes wide with mirth when somebody confirmed that he’d gotten the joke. Lance didn’t miss the ways his hands would almost flap when he got a head pat because he got the joke for once, even if he’d brush it off with a scowl and a shrug.</p><p>Keith might still be suppressing himself, masking his natural state of being, but he was rebelling against it in small ways. He was standing up for others, standing up for himself, refusing to bend for other people’s comfort. His suppression was for his own personal boundaries, and not because it made others feel more comfortable. Keith refused to take his gloves off, defended himself loudly when implored to remove them on an alien planet, loudly, explicitly, clearly grit out the words that Lance had felt within his soul. <em>”I refuse to yield my comfort for your norms. My discomfort isn’t for you to demand. Your rules should not come at the expense of my boundaries or anyone else’s boundaries, and if you think otherwise, you can kiss my ass!”</em></p><p>Maybe Keith had been pretty pissed off, but something about it had stuck Lance hard. Because Lance always sacrificed his personal comfort to make others happy. It was just the norm, just what was expected of him. And Keith having basic boundaries, asserting his basic right to human comfort- well, that idea was just so radical that it genuinely <em>angered</em> people when Keith set that boundary and refused to yield. It made them uncomfortable that Keith refused to disrespect and violate his own boundaries for other people’s comfort. That Keith refused to minimise his existence and comfort for others to control him and mould him into their ideal behaviour and appearance. And it wasn’t like Keith was even doing anything <em>wrong</em>; he was just wearing pieces of fabric over his hands. No crime except the crime of being different from the status quo, of deviating from the societal norms, and yet he was still constantly labelled as volatile and unstable for it.</p><p>And maybe Lance wished that that could be him. That he could set those boundaries too, refuse to minimise his existence and hide himself away just because his divergences made him a bitter pill to swallow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So hi again! We are getting a <em>lot</em> closer to Lance coming out by now!<br/>I’m working on other shorter fics too, and a few projects, but I’m pretty burnt out with life rn so other than this chapter, I’m probably not posting again today. Keep yourselves safe and take care!! And talk to each other if you’re struggling or haven’t heard from somebody in a while.</p><p>Should I start asking yall questions here to interact with you guys more?<br/>Question, what are your theories for Lance’s coming out?👀</p><p>Also it’s pretty bare rn, because I really haven’t checked it in a while, but check out my insta, @keiths_fangs</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Keith attempts to give advice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keith gives advice, albeit very awkwardly, and Lance has an existential crisis</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So hi!<br/>I can’t think of many trigger warnings for this chapter! Keith talks about his past a little and talks about self-acceptance. Let me know if I need to add one!<br/>Also: I had a hectic week, but I’ll respond to comments soon, either later today or tomorrow! Feel free to spam more comments lajdhfsakshfgk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Expect the unexpected. That was something Keith had always been taught to do, but he never quite mastered it- how were you supposed to expect something that was… <em>un</em>expected? That was kind of the point, right? It wasn’t, and couldn’t be expected, so how the fuck didn’t people just. Do it? Expect what you couldn’t expect? </p><p>Keith wished now more than ever that he knew how to expect the unexpected, because he found the one thing he didn’t expect to have to deal with. Lance asking <em>him</em> for advice. But he was being stupidly cryptic about it, because of course, humans were all mind readers and it really would kill everyone to be a little more direct. </p><p>“You know, like, confidence? Or something? How?”</p><p>“I don’t-“ Keith huffed in frustration, trying to decipher what was going on. Loudmouth Lance, the one person who had enough confidence to fill a football stadium and then some, was asking Keith Kogane, introvert extraordinaire, how to be confident. “What?”</p><p>“Um. Like, you know, confidence. You know, not caring what other people think and all that.”</p><p>Keith snorted. “Who told you that?”</p><p>“Nobody, I just-“ Lance seemed nervous, cutting himself off. “Nothing ever gets to you, dude, you just, flip them off and tell them to go fuck themselves if they don’t particularly like you, and, yeah…”</p><p>Keith blinked. Couldn’t Lance see how much he’d just contradicted himself? People didn’t get angry because they didn’t care. People got angry because they cared so much it boiled over in rage. Did people really think that Keith didn’t care, that he wasn’t affected by all the judgment? That he’d never cried himself to sleep as a little boy because the way he stuck his teeth over his chin looked- “that’s bullshit,” Keith announced loudly, bluntly, and Lance just looked confused. “You think if I didn’t care, I’d waste the time and energy punching them in the face? Of course it gets to me. It always does. I just. Don’t, show it like you do. Because I <em>refuse</em> to let it change me.”</p><p>“But you always seem so…” confident.</p><p>“It’s not confidence,” Keith stated. Grass is green, the sky is blue, hippo milk isn’t pink. A fact.</p><p>“But… then what is it?” Why was Lance so… confused? Why did it read as confidence to him?</p><p>“Radical self-acceptance,” Keith relied. Lance just stared at him, and Keith realised he’d need to elaborate. “I’m not confident. I never have been. But I accept myself. And, I accept every part of myself, even the parts I never used to love. And I try to embrace it. I try- I <em>fight</em> to love myself even if the world doesn’t want me to. And because I fight to love myself, I fight <em>for</em> myself. I don’t hide myself away, or, pretend I’m not scared, or not <em>different</em>. I embrace it, and maybe that comes across as confidence to you, but it’s <em>not</em>. I am <em>constantly</em> unsure of myself. Conscious of, what people think, or, how people interpret how I act, or, how I speak. But I <em>accept myself regardless</em>. I-“ Keith huffed, frustration taking over.</p><p>He didn’t know how to put it into words. Not even in his own head. He took a deep breath, trying to piece it together- but it was just something he <em>knew</em>, deep down, a process he’d been through, a level of self-awareness and self-knowledge he’d achieved, something abstract he’d never had to put into words, never had to verbalise. So he gestured vaguely instead, cursing his terrible communication skills and hoping Lance got the gist of it.</p><p>“I already love and accept myself,” Lance replied with a casual shrug. <em>did he? really?</em></p><p>Keith looked at him intensely. “Do you?”</p><p>“I…” Keith watched Lance’s facade crumble around him, watched the way his brows scrunched together and his eyes darted back and fourth across Keith’s face as he seemed to link things together in his own head.</p><p>“Jeez man, did’ya have to give me an existential crisis before breakfast?”</p><p>Keith blinked, assuming Lance was being dramatically joking. “Yes.”</p><p>“Damn, man, I-... always thought I loved myself, you know? But I guess I really just shoved all my insecurities down instead…”</p><p>“Oh. Uh…” Comfort. Lance needed comfort. Keith rarely had to comfort others, rarely ever received it himself, but Lance usually liked physical touch, right? Keith reached out tentatively, not entirely sure where to place his hand. Head pats? That was more congratulatory, not consoling. Holding hands was- well, easy to read as less-than platonic. Holding the back of his neck would probably be comforting- something about feeling safe or something, but that felt overwhelmingly intimate for friends. A hand on the arm wasn’t exactly intimate, but whenever people touched Keith’s arm, he usually felt a panic away from reporting workplace harassment and running away forever. He placed his hand gently on Lance’s back instead, and kept it deadly still to not make it weird. “What happened to the Lance who knew who he was?”</p><p>“I changed, I guess,” Lance replied, leaning into Keith’s touch. Keith wasn’t so sure Lance was aware he was doing it in the first place. “I don’t know… maybe I matured too fast, with the war and all. Didn’t give myself enough space to breathe whenever I got mad at myself and criticised myself.”</p><p>Keith didn’t think that was entirely it, but that was Lance’s to decide. Keith could listen, try advise him and help him figure it out, let him know that he understood- maybe that would help.</p><p>“I-“ Keith took a deep breath, shuffling a little to get more comfortable. “I had a rough childhood. I don’t really, talk about it much, but my dad died when I was a kid. I was, always on the outside looking in, but I always had my dad. Until I didn’t. And… mom wasn’t around, but I’m sure you figured that out. Dad had no family but me. So, I got bounced around the system for a while. Learned some neat tricks, like, how to hide money, or, how to get out of cuffs, but I was <em>angry</em>. So angry, and I had nobody to teach me how to grow up. People told me who I should be, how I should act. Nobody told me how to exist as I am. Everybody treated me like I was a broken personality, like I needed fixing and changing. Nobody taught me that- I didn’t need fixing. I was a whole person, not some- fine China dish in the back of somebody’s kitchen cabinet they got as a wedding present twenty years ago and only ever used once. I was a <em>person</em>.</p><p>“And I tried to fit in. I tried to do as they asked and act as they asked, and it just tore away any sense of self I had. Their idea of growth was stripping me of everything that made me <em>me</em>. So I stopped that shit. I stopped apologising for who I was and what I couldn’t help. If nobody would love me, then I’d have to love myself, somehow. I’m not exactly a- a <em>feelings</em> guy, as such. I- I mean I <em>have</em> them, but I don’t really- I struggle to figure them out a lot. They feel all, jumbled, and, I just. <em>feel</em>. I, don’t know how to explain it. It’s why I get angry the way I do. I don’t recognise it until I’m already at boiling point, already too much and, too intense and overwhelming. But- that’s. besides my point. I’m not good at feelings, and, being a guy, it’s… not exactly the norm to, focus on self-love and all that mushy crap. But, maybe the norm is stupid. So I. Worked on it. Went solo. Didn’t use self-help books, because they all wanted me to- change who I was and do some yoga or some shit. I just felt stupid.”</p><p>Silence stretched between them, Keith pausing to see if Lance had anything to add. Maybe he didn’t reply because Keith sounded mid-explanation, so Keith continued on, hoping he was comminucating well enough for Lance to understand.</p><p>“I focused on my anger,” Keith continued. “It came from somewhere. And it hurt. I had to confront why I was so angry, all the- all the trauma and the tears and- everything I hid away for them. And I had to teach myself to stop hiding away from myself. I had to teach myself how to embrace it all. Even my less social, qualities, like, punching people in the face. I mean- I obviously had to not punch people in the face so, uh, but instead of hating myself for it, I accepted it came from a place of pain. That, I felt constantly on the back foot, that I felt trapped and cornered and- and <em>scared</em>. I thanked young me for doing everything he could to fight for himself, and learned to let go of how I did that. I learned to walk away, how to figure out if it was worth my energy. How to- shout, instead of punch. How to stand up for myself, instead of blindly lashing out. Learned the words for who I was and why I was different, learned how to set boundaries. So… yeah. It’s not confidence. It’s radical self-acceptance. Personal growth, or some shit.”</p><p>“Life sucks, huh?” Lance didn’t say much else. No <em> ‘I’m so sorry for your loss </em>, no pity, no sugar coating and telling him he should be grateful his life is better now, or misguided comfort that Keith didn’t ask for. Just a simple acknowledgement that life fucking sucked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Keith replied, “it does. What’s stopping you from loving yourself?”</p><p>“I… guess I always thought that I had to be <em>better</em>... and I tried so hard that I just- I don’t know… lost myself along the way.”</p><p>“Then find yourself,” Keith replied plainly.</p><p>“I thought I had…” Lance sighed heavily, shoulders slumping with defeat.</p><p>“Did you really lose yourself, or are you just telling yourself you did so you don’t have to face who you really are?”</p><p>Lance winced, and Keith felt a pang of guilt, realising he might have pushed too far. “Because maybe I’m, not ready to accept that…”</p><p>“Accept what,” Keith pushed gently, but Lance just screwed his face up.</p><p>“I thought I’d already… accepted it,” Lance replied quietly. Keith didn’t push him any further to elaborate on what it was. He figured Lance would tell him anyways if he felt comfortable to do so. “I mean I- spent so long fighting with myself to accept it, but… did I really- <em>accept</em> it? I always try to accept myself for who I am but… truth is… I’m scared of how much could change in my life because of it, and… I’m not sure if I’m ready for that change yet, but… I want to be ready…”</p><p>“You need to accept yourself <em>fully</em>,” Keith reiterated, and Lance shied away from Keith’s hand. Keith dropped his hand without question, didn’t take it personally. Lance was on the verge of a personal breakthrough, but Keith didn’t think he was supposed to see that part yet.”</p><p>“What about the parts of me… that I'm scared of?”</p><p>“<em>Especially</em> those parts, Lance. You need to accept those too- uh- the .” Keith looked at him again, but Lance seemed so conflicted, on the verge of running or breaking apart, as though he was confronting some kind of uncomfortable truth in his head.</p><p>“I… don’t know if I can, Keith…”</p><p>“Why. Why can’t you?”</p><p>“I… don’t know…” But Lance did know. It was clear in the way he curled in on himself, avoided eye contact, completely clammed up like he was caught with a lie.</p><p>“Then accept them. Work on them. Get used to them because it’s a part of who you are and you need to come to terms with that to love yourself as a whole, complete human being. And maybe then, you’ll stop holding yourself back.”</p><p>And with that, Keith walked off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So hi!<br/>-I’m working on planning the trans Klance Fic even if it’s only a one-shot<br/>-yes, Lance is finally about to hit his last barrier to coming out<br/>-yes, I procrastinated writing the next chapters, but I’ll catch up again and get back on top of it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Unleashing the red lion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance finally faces the skeletons in his closet he’d been avoiding for so long, and in doing so, unlocks the power and passion of the red lion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw: battling and realising hidden internalised homophobia, f slur used once by Lance against himself</p><p>So hi!! This one is a little heavy at first, but I promise it doesn’t stay like so. This chapter is about confronting and overcoming internalised homophobia- and also coming out for the first time.</p><p>Oh, and Lance being oblivious about his own feelings, of course</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith had hit the nail on the head. He’d unwrapped it all and laid it all out perfectly: <em>Lance didn’t accept himself</em>. Too many words he didn’t believe in had sunk deep beneath his skin, branded him with their hate and made him believe it all for himself. He’d never considered that they had, because he’d never direct this hate at somebody, at Shiro, at Pidge, at Keith- at <em>anyone</em>. He <em>knew</em> it was wrong, yet Keith’s words had opened a locked door Lance hadn’t even realised he had; the skeletons in his closet tumbled out: the slurs he heard, the nasty comments, the pure vitriol and hate justified with twisted words- all in Lance’s voice, all aimed at himself, all burning with such self-hatred that Lance wanted to brand it onto paper, write it in marker on his flesh and scrub it away until it stopped branding him with this- this</p><p><em>fuck</em>.</p><p>Lance took a shaky breath, trying to find the room to catch a breath. He hadn’t even noticed how much he’d absorbed, how much he’d grown to believe, how much he resented who he was, until Keith made him confront the truth. </p><p>He didn’t accept himself.</p><p>He wasn’t completely unaware of his sexuality all these years.</p><p>He’d been hoping it would all go away, that it would just be a phase, that he could wake up normal.</p><p>And Lance felt sick. He felt sick and angry, because the world stole acceptance from him. They tainted his mind with disgusting bigotry, and Lance couldn’t seem to shake it off. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the homophobia inside him. He hadn’t wanted to confront the amount of times he was telling himself that he was nothing more than a useless faggot; told himself he liked girls and only girls; told himself to snap out of this stupid phase and be a man for once.</p><p>He’d buried the fact he hated himself to the point he hadn’t even realised it was a barrier for him accepting himself, because <em>he thought he already had</em>.</p><p>He rushed to the mirror, fighting against the waves of panic and disgust, because <em>this wasn’t right</em>. He shouldn’t hate himself like this, and he was barely sure of where it all came from. It wasn’t the judgment from others that stopped him and held him back. It was the judgment he cast unto himself, and it was coming back to haunt him horribly. He was shaking, gripping the sink tightly and forcing himself to look in the mirror- <em>really</em> look in the mirror.</p><p>He had to acknowledge that he’d hated who he was. That he wasn’t oblivious to his own sexual crisis all these years, that he’d hidden it with purpose, because he’d internalised it all and didn’t want to face what he was. <em>Who he was</em>. He hadn’t come out yet because he was <em>disgusted</em> with himself. And Lance hated that he could ever think so horribly of himself. It was <em>intrusive</em>. Because Lance didn’t believe it was wrong… <em>’for other people’</em>. And fuck, that was it, wasn’t it? Everything was okay, as long as it wasn’t him who was the freak. As long as he wasn’t the laughing stock, the clown, the othered, the different, <em>again</em>.</p><p>He shook his head, took another deep breath, trying to reign in his thoughts. He knew this wasn’t right. He knew it was stupid, bullshit, useless hatred with no purpose other than to hurt himself. Another way to beat himself up for not being perfect, not being good enough.</p><p>He forced himself to look himself in the eyes, even though it was hard. Forced himself to confront the fact that he was bi and it was here to stay. That as scared as he was, he <em>knew</em> his friends would accept him, and that’s exactly why he’d felt so uneasy about coming out, dropping the mask. Because the hate inside wasn’t ready to hear the support he’d get.</p><p>And that’s exactly why he needed to come out.</p><p>He needed to kill the hate. As long as he kept it all in his own head, those voices could drown out his light and push it back down. He could convince himself to live a heterosexual lie and suppress himself further. And he needed to make that feeling die. He needed friends, allies, who would tell him he was perfect just the way he was, that he was okay, that he was welcome. He needed to hear it out loud, like he had from Shiro. He needed them to see. He needed them to turn the closet light on so he could chase the ghosts away in his head. He needed to live his truth and spite the hate within, because it wasn’t going to go away unless Lance refused to let it stay.</p><p>And refuse he did.</p><p>He refused to let it get into his heart. Refused to let the tendrils of hatred grip him, because he was <em>queer</em>, goddammit, and it <em>wasn’t going away</em>. It wasn’t going away, and <em>he didn’t want it to</em>. Words he called himself couldn’t hurt him if he wrenched them out of their hands, if he took their hatred and turned it into a shield. Those words couldn’t hurt him if he took them away from the sneering, nameless faces of hate and turned them into his greatest strength, his greatest source of pride. If he took their weapons and crafted his home out of them, then those weapons couldn’t hurt him anymore. If somebody threw a slur at him, he could look them dead in the eyes, respond with a ‘<em>yeah, I am. What a-fucking-bout it?</em>”</p><p>Just the thought of turning the hate he faced into his strength filled his veins with a burning passion he hadn’t known he could’ve felt. Just the thought of existing loudly out of sheer fucking spite filled him with such a deep burning rage against the hate he’d heard that he finally felt strong enough. He felt stronger than he ever had, and he was terrified, fucking shaking in his boots- but he was tougher than that. He was strong and sensitive and bi and <em>human</em>.</p><p>He didn’t need to change. There was nothing wrong with him, and he didn’t have to feed the hate within. He could cut it off, starve it, amputate it and let it rot like a severed limb, because he didn’t need it anymore. He never needed it, and <em>he deserved better</em>.</p><p>He took a deep, determined breath, looked deep within himself through his reflection, the proud purr of the red lion reverberating through every fibre of his being, feeling the newfound fire within and adding kindle to it, encouraging him in punchy growls to fight back and grab the reigns to his own fate, to his own narrative. <em>’yes, good. Let go of the hate. Stop holding back. <b>It is time to burn bright</b>.’</em></p><p>And burn bright he would.</p><p>He took a deep, determined breath, leaving behind his plan to carefully, nervously over-explain himself to everyone through the headset’s link, because confidence was <em>burning</em> through his veins, impulse and instinct taking control and finally fighting through all the hurt inside and cutting through in a burning rage at the world and a burning need to burst free of all the hate. He turned without second thought, made his way through the castle to arrive late for training.</p><p>The thrumming growls of the red lion thundered through his veins, energised him, made his reflexes sharper, more sure- because he’s stopped second guessing himself. He found himself smirking as blade clashed against blade, as he pushed back and <em>won</em>. He was on fire, outperforming himself like never before- because he’d finally stopped holding back. He’d finally started to burn bright enough to burn away the hatred that had run so dark through his veins and replaced it with a burning gold. Keith seemed to notice, offered one of his dangerous, galra smirks, didn’t hold back either. He impressed himself with his fire: pure, raw confidence oozing out of him in torrents. Lance had never felt more alive in training, more in synch with his own instincts. He was moving faster than ever, his reflexes sharp, his trust in himself at its highest. He wasn’t held back by the way he usually second guessed everything he did- every move was calculated, decisive, sure- and Lance was unstoppable.</p><p>By the end of training, he’d broken all of his previous records, had outperformed Pidge and Hunk by a long shot, had come closer to Keith’s stats than ever before, closing the gap a little further between him and Shiro and Allura. He felt <em>powerful</em>.</p><p>He didn’t find the time to be disappointed in himself. It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t the best paladin, that his scores were perfectly average- it didn’t matter that he wasn’t on top, because he’d fought with such passion, such vitality and energy that he’d outperformed his own expectations of himself by a long shot. He’d finally stopped holding himself back, finally stopped second-guessing himself and learned to just <em>do</em>. He’d found his confidence, his fire, and he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back anymore. No more self-doubt. He didn’t need it, didn’t want it holding him back anymore. He hadn’t even been aware of how much he’d been doing it until now; now, when he was so cock-sure of himself, so completely in tune with his own instincts and abilities that he didn’t stop to second-guess if he was doing the right thing, making the right move. He just trusted himself to get it right, and get it right he did. Trusting himself and his own abilities and instincts had paid off: and knowing who he was had made him ooze ephemeral confidence with every breath.</p><p>By the end of training, Lance felt ready. With the buzz of adrenaline flowing through his veins, and the rush of endorphins from such a satisfyingly vigorous training session, Lance felt better than ever. He’d finally confronted his demons, de-closeted all of his skeletons, and now he was ready to de-closet himself. He threw his original plan out the window- he was going to tell everyone before lunch, one by one, and he wasn’t going to be scared.</p><p>…</p><p>Okay, maybe he was going to be terrified, but he was finally strong enough to push past the fear he had and fight back against it. He was finally brave enough to find the strength to push through it all and continue despite and in spite of his fear. He couldn’t be stopped; he was doing this, whether the world liked it or not. And he knew where to start now- or at least, he hoped he did, but he reminded himself not to doubt himself- he knew himself better than anyone, and that meant that he knew what to do.</p><p>“Alright everyone, I have something pretty important to tell you all, and no, it’s <em>not</em> that I’ve found the future Mrs Blue Lion, so don’t worry, I’m still available-“ he flashed some joking finger guns and a smile at Allura, who rolled her eyes- “but I’m, gonna tell you all one by one before dinner, so please make sure I can find you all because man, I do <em>not</em> want to try crawl through an air duct again, <em>Pidge</em>, so yeah! Uh- Hunk, can I borrow you for a sec, buddy?” He slung his arm around Hunk’s shoulder, leading him away from the group and pushing through the swirling butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>They walked until they reached the kitchens, the one place that Lance always associated with his best friend’s comfort. Whether it was at the garrison or in space. Hunk would always walk Lance down to the kitchens to whip up some creamy cocoa and a batch of cookies so they could talk the while. So it had good memories, and set the tone that this was something serious.</p><p>“So… is everything alright?” Hunk asked with caution, immediately grabbing the cups and rinsing them out again whilst he put the kettle on- or rather, the strange, triangular vessel the alteans used for heating water with.</p><p>“Yeah yeah, everything’s fine,” Lance dismissed, waving him off before pausing. “Everything’s great, actually,” he amended, smiling slightly to himself in spite of his nerves.</p><p>“Oh?” Hunk encouraged curiously, briefly turning from his task to look at Lance, showing his interest in Lance’s secrets.</p><p>“Yeah, I, um, I kind figured some stuff out about myself and uhm… wanted to tell you about it.”</p><p>“I’m listening,” Hunk insisted, quickly finishing the drinks and turning around, sitting opposite Lance across the breakfast bar. </p><p>“Okay, well. Here goes nothing, I guess. So, I’m kinda, like. Bi. As in, bisexual. Like, I like dudes and all. Guys are… yeah. Guys are good.” Lance felt himself blush darkly, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks and reminding himself that his internalised shame wasn’t helpful at all, and that he could exist in spite of it. He kept his head held high; didn’t look down to the table, although he did run the back of his neck rather awkwardly.</p><p>“Oh?” Hunk smiled slightly, looking up to Lance fully. </p><p>“Yeah. I uh, I’ve kinda been battling it for a while now, but yeah, I sorted my shit out and, I’m officially coming out, to you guys, at least.”</p><p>“I hope you know how proud I am,” Hunk began softly, “and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Am I the first person you’ve told, or…”</p><p>“No, not exactly, but kinda yeah?” Lance scratched the back of his neck awkwardly: “I told Shiro when I was still having my crisis, but he doesn’t know I finally figured it all out yet.”</p><p>“I’m honoured you told me,” Hunk replied, making his way around the table to wrap Lance in a warm hug. Lance immediately melted into it, the reassurance that being bisexual changed nothing between their usual touchy dynamic enough to re-fuel Lance’s confidence.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Lance felt genuinely proud of himself, and the fire of the red lion burned through his body once more.</p><p>“So… why now? I mean- don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you finally told me, but what prompted you to finally come out?”</p><p>“Just something Keith said,” Lance replied with a shrug, “he has some good advice sometimes. Intense maybe… but good.”</p><p>“Keith ordered me to go to bed once,” Hunk replied, “but to be fair, he was <em>also</em> awake at four o’clock in the morning.”</p><p>“Yeah, that sounds like Keith,” Lance responded fondly, “he uh… gave me some advice on self-confidence. Something about radical self-acceptance. It was the most un-Keith like thing, man, but so much like him too. Maybe I just don’t know him as well as I thought I did. We’re kind of friends now, but I guess I haven’t been making as much time for him as I should be making.”</p><p>“Well,” Hunk began, “maybe you should start by giving him something nice. I mean, he gave you those shiny rocks, right? Maybe you should get him something in return when we stop off at the next planet.”</p><p>“Hunk, you’re a genius and I could platonically kiss you right now! Maybe I could invest in some cool alien paints for him, he loves art!”</p><p>“He does? How do you-“</p><p>“We hung out together in the library,” Lance replied, “he paints in the old books with his watercolour sets. We just kind of sat in silence, you know? He recommended a book for me and I’m about half way through it. Well, he mentioned a book he wanted to read himself and it sounded cool- Godzilla-like Weblums, Hunk! Maybe I should ask him for more book recs later, he’s a cool guy. I never expected him to be the type to read for <em>fun</em>, but I guess he had to do <em>something</em> to keep himself occupied in the desert all those years-“ Lance abruptly cut himself off, aware that he was rambling and getting off topic, Hunk smiling at him with a strange smile that Lance decided couldn’t possibly mean anything good. “Anyway! I should uhh… go tell everyone else! Do you have the stuff for pancakes later?”</p><p>“I’ll see what I can do,” Hunk replied, patting his back, “good luck telling everyone about yourself!”</p><p>“Thanks, buddy!” Lance rushed out, determined to tell the world who he was before lunch- or, at least, the population of the current castleship. He figured he’d never truly stop coming out to people, and whilst it would probably become exhausting in the long run, right now it felt like a blessing. He felt as though telling the world about who he was had become the most integral thing to him right now, like he could do it forever so long as he believed in himself and supported himself. Then again, he supposed, talking to Hunk always gave him a fresh lease of life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It’s been a Rough Few Days, y’all, but we made it. Coming back to this fic and writing more always seems to help me though :)<br/>Also I went on a book shopping spree<br/>…<br/>Hunk knows what’s up. Hunk can see it. And now the poor guy is gonna have to suffer through Lance’s complete obliviousness about his own feelings towards Keith.<br/>I already know what Lance is gonna buy Keith, but I’m so curious: what would you guys get Keith if you were Lance? I’d get him a mothman plushie :)</p><p>Also I hope yall liked my take on the red lion! I do have some lion-related plans for this fic, but you’ll have to wait and see (:</p><p>(I’ll respond to comments in the next few days, hopefully tomorrow)</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Easier to say, calmer to carry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance comes out to Shiro</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So hi!! This is a shorter chapter than usual, mainly because there’s not so much that needs to be said between Lance and Shiro at this moment, but I feel they needed a chapter of their own.</p><p>Also I was super busy ahdkffl</p><p>I’ll be responding to comments as soon as I can in the next few days, so spam away!!</p><p>No new/big trigger warnings for this one :3 just use of queer reclaimed, which I’d already warned of before/previously/last time :)</p><p>Also, I hint at a big part of the plot upcoming a few chapter later in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After coming out officially for the first time, Lance’s inner fire had only grown in strength. He had a lot of people left to tell- and if he was honest, he didn’t really have an order to tell them in. Telling Hunk first had been a no-brainier- after all, Hunk was his closest, most long-term friend. Hunk was the one who got to hear about every single girl Lance had ever had a crush on, so it seemed only fitting that his longest confidant should know first that Lance was bisexual. He looked forwards to being open about his sexuality from now on, being able to point out people he liked to Hunk who weren’t just girls, and having Hunk being his wingman.</p><p>Lance decided on telling Shiro next- he already kind of knew, so Lance could leave some of the longer talks to last. He wasn’t hard to find: Shiro was on the observation deck, a place he’d been frequenting more regularly since they left Earth again. It was recommended by his therapist, to spend a little time in an open space just reflecting on his personal progress and his past. He didn’t seem too deep in thought, so Lance merely sat quietly besides him.</p><p>“Hey, Lance.”</p><p>“Hey, Shiro,” Lance replied, glad with how easy and calm talking to Shiro was. “We’re a long way from Earth, huh?”</p><p>“We’ve been further,” Shiro replied carefully, although Lance wasn’t entirely sure whose benefit the comment was really for. Shiro was just as homesick as Lance lately, and seemed to miss Earth even more now he’d seen what he’d come back for after so long accepting that he’d lost his home for good when he was first abducted all those years ago.</p><p>“We have,” Lance replied quietly, and a comfortable, reflective silence passed over them for a while.</p><p>“So, you wanted to tell me something?”</p><p>Lance nodded peacefully, taking a deep, steady breath. “I finally accepted myself as bi,” he spoke, letting a soft smile pass his features. “It feels pretty good to say it out loud like that, with so much certainty. Especially after so much instability.”</p><p>“I’m proud of you,” Shiro replied, clasping him on the shoulder, “welcome to the community, Lance.”</p><p>“Thank you, Shiro,” Lance responded candidly, allowing himself to be pulled into a warm hug.</p><p>“I’m still here if ever you need to talk, okay? Queer to queer, if you’re okay with that word.”</p><p>“I am,” Lance replied, “it feels kinda right to say for me.”</p><p>“I don’t use it much,” Shiro began with a slight shrug, pulling back from the hug, “but I’m comfortable when people I trust use it for me. You’re one of about four, maybe five people I’m okay with calling me that, so keep that in mind.”</p><p>“I will,” Lance replied, smiling softly, “and thank you. For trusting me with something so…” Lance wasn’t quite sure what word to use. Queer was a word many didn’t like and equally as many would love. It had harsh roots as a slur, but had been reclaimed by the wider community some decades ago. It tended to be very personal, and Lance could understand the weight that being trusted to call somebody queer carried with it. He was being trusted to say it as a way of empowering others, rather than demeaning and belittling. Shiro trusted him enough to use a word he wasn’t so widely comfortable with, because he knew that Lance understood the provenance of the word enough to use it cautiously and righteously, as opposed to maliciously or in passing without considering the full impact it may have and carry at times.</p><p>“Of course,” Shiro replied, because of course he understood. “Thank you for being somebody I felt I could trust.” Lance smiled softly in response, cheeks heating up a little out of embarrassment: it wasn’t often anyone truly complimented Lance, so ever since he was a child, he tended to go bright red at the slightest bit of praise from anyone, but especially from his mother. “So,” Shiro began, “how does it feel to be coming out officially?”</p><p>“Pretty good,” Lance replied honestly, “terrifying, actually. I uh… quite like being open about it but there’s just, so much adrenaline in me right now, you know? My heart is pounding a stupid amount.”</p><p>“I know it’s cliche to say <em>‘it gets easier,’</em>” Shiro started, “but it kind of does, depending on who you’re coming out to. My first coming out I felt like I was going to be sick. It took me a lot of time to even be able to force the words out. But within a few months, I found myself casually telling neighbours when they ended up talking to my parents, and I found myself showing it somehow in small ways. I had this black leather braided bracelet that I attached rainbow beads to the end of. I was never really the type for bold dress back then or anything, so that bracelet was… my subtle way of telling the world. I remember when I used to wear it every single day. It almost felt like I couldn’t be confident without it on because, well, after so long of keeping it hidden, it felt wrong to hide it again. To not show every part of me with pride. And maybe one day that’ll be you, although I have a feeling you’ll become a lot louder about it.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Lance replied with a small laugh, “I’ll definitely be loud about it once I'm ready. Bi flag cape and all.”</p><p>“Well,” Shiro laughed lightly, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Lance.” Shiro gave Lance a firm and supportive back slap. “I look forwards to seeing you become comfortable openly embracing your bisexual identity.”</p><p>“I should tell the others,” Lance began, standing up, “and I’ll be sure to come to you if I need anymore gay-space-fatherly advice.” Shiro gave Lance a thumbs up before Lance walked out; Lance looked back with yet another soft smile, and left the room feeling calm and at ease. </p><p>Things felt less frantic, like Lance finally had some breathing space. Whilst his passion and drive for coming out hadn’t waned, and he could still hear the proud and firery purr of the red lion guiding him on, she was fading slightly into the background bit by but the more Lance settled into his confidence, a familiar, gentle purr beginning to overlap with her fire. For a second, Lance almost thought that she might have been blue, a wash of melancholy settling over him at the fond memories of flying with her. But she was Allura’s lion for the foreseeable future, and she likely always would be. Lance suspected that Keith missed red just as much as Lance missed blue, and Shiro appeared to miss Black too. With that final thought, Lance headed towards the labs towards Pidge.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So hi yall, how are you?</p><p>Lance’s coming out is gonna have a few chapters more yet- at least four or five more.</p><p>It’s such an Important milestone in the plot, so of course it has a lot of focus on it.</p><p>Lance needs to do a bit more work on himself before he starts genuinely reflecting on any potential crushes on any mulleted teammates, though, so oblivious Lance for the win!!</p><p>Unrelated, but Allura is a queen 👑💖</p><p>Edit: 56667 words, damn ahdklgjgdjk</p>
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